Break Down: A Historical Berlin Wall Story
by Hetalia-Girl-5000
Summary: Prussia sacrifices himself for his little brother, but that means he has to live with Russia and everything and everyone else that comes with it. Historical Dark!Hetalia. Because: History! Non-Pairing! Not-completely-evil-Russia. Rated T for Violence, physical/psychological torture, respectful mentions of the Holocaust, mentions of self-harm and suicide, drugs...etc. Longer set-up.
1. Chapter 1: May 2nd 1945

Chapter 1

Smoke… Dust… and the residual stench of gunfire and dead soldier's filled the air. Tanks, cars, and shell casings littered the streets with the broken ruins of majestic buildings. Cries of pain from dying soldiers broke the horrible silence, along with the crackle of fire, and the screams and sobs of women and children. For two weeks they'd fought without sleep. For two weeks they'd been slaughtered, men, women, children… civilians and soldiers alike buried and burned under rubble, ash, and flames. Russian soldiers ran through the city, laughing, drinking, carrying the spoils of their conquest.

Prussia's red eyes scanned the once beautiful city, his Berlin. He closed his eyes, trying to drown out the cries of his and his brother's people burning through him. He looked up to the Reichstag as a Soviet soldier climbed to the top, letting the blood red flag unfurl into the wind, holding it high above the city for all to see. The hammer and sickle, with a star above them. Rage surged through Prussia, rage, and hate. He looked down at bleeding face of his brother, cradled in his arms, leaning unconscious against his chest, a giant gaping wound in his side. Prussia let his head fall back against the brick of the building he'd dragged Germany to, one of the last few standing structures of the city. He winced, taking a shaking breath, and swallowing the blood he tasted. Blood seeped from the wound his own side bore. Carefully, and with what he thought might be the last of his strength, he lifted his brother's body enough to shove his own arm between them to reach the trauma where a few hours before shrapnel had torn through him.

He pressed into the wound, inhaling sharply in pain, and letting his brother's head fall against his chest again. He touched Ludwig's face gently with his free hand, brushing the dirt away from his eyes.

"Well, Bruder…" Prussia whispered, his breath short from pain and exhaustion, "The war is over… we survived hell." He turned slowly, looking into the distance, the smoke clearing in the wind to reveal two figures standing at the edge of the city. Russia and America were walking slowly into the ruins of their own making. Prussia took a deep breath, preparing himself. He looked down at Ludwig again and shook his shoulder.

"Wake up." He whispered still, "You have to wake up." He pulled his head away from the wall and pressed into the wound in his side harder, desperately trying to stop the blood that ran out between his gloved fingers. He pulled himself up with his free arm and gently laid Germany down on the broken stone around them. Slowly, bracing himself against the brick, he forced himself to his feet and reached down to grab the rifle beside him, his pistol still at his hip. There was fight left in him yet, defeated or not. He pulled the rifle up to his shoulder, and let go of his wound to hold the stock of the gun. His hand slipped, the leather glove too soaked in his own blood. The barrel of the gun dropped. He ripped off the glove and forced stiff fingers to try and hold the gun steady. He raised it and took aim for America, who lifted his rifle in return.

Bullets ripped through Prussia's chest throwing him back onto the rocks at his feet, the gun slipping from his hands and landing beside him. He was too weak to reach his hand to his head, but he felt blood soaking through his hair. The gaping wound on his side, and America's bullet holes left an ever increasing pool of blood around him. He craned his head to look back up at his brother, who was just starting to stir. He smiled faintly, at least Ludwig was alive. He couldn't watch him die… not again. He was snapped back to reality as a heavy black boot pressed against his chest. He looked up to see Russia towering over him aiming a pistol towards his face.

"Russia?" America's voice broke through the air.

Prussia took the opportunity as Russia looked away. He stabbed behind Russia's knee with a knife he grabbed from his boot. The bigger country's leg gave way, and he brought his hand to it with a sharp inhale of pain. Prussia kicked him down and forced himself to stand, aiming his own pistol and Russia's face.

Russia smirked, almost amused, and looked up at Prussia, easily able to stand if he should so choose.

Gilbert's finger twitched on the trigger. It wouldn't kill Russia, but his pride needed a small victory.

"Gil, stop."

Prussia felt the cold steel barrel of America's pistol pressed against the side of his head. He didn't take his eyes, or his gun, off of Russia.

"Gilbert," America's voice was shaking from pain, and Prussia could just see the blood pooling around the young country's boots, "Please. Please don't make me do this."

Prussia kept his eyes fixed on Russia's smiling face. It made him angry. Russia wasn't threatened by him anymore. He lowered his pistol from Russia's face to his chest and fired three shots, ducking away from America's gun.

Before America could return fire, Russia had kicked Prussia's legs out from under him, and grabbed a fistful of white hair, forcing Prussia to his knees. Prussia gasped as Russia pulled his head back kicking him in the wound at his side. His body shook with pain and the last of his remaining pride. His head was forced back further as Russia's pistol pressed against his chin. He looked straight up into Russia's face with a rebellious smirk.

"Do it you commie b-" Prussia's words were cut off by Germany's voice.

"Russia! Don't!" The tall blond was standing, barely, leaning against the brick wall. "Please…"

Prussia turned his eyes to his brother. It hurt to see him so defeated. He didn't have any fight left. He gasped in pain suddenly as Russia pulled him closer, leaning in to whisper in his ear, pressing the gun into his throat.

"You owe me for sparing you, da?"

Prussia swore at him through his teeth.

Russia said nothing, only smiled a sickening, childish smile, and brought the gun down to Prussia's chest. He fired three shots.

Prussia fell back as Russia released his hair. He fought for breath as Russia once again pressed his boot onto his chest, over the already bloody wound where all three bullets had ripped through him. He looked up at Russia, who's own bullet wounds were starting to soak his long tan coat in blood. It didn't seem to bother him. Prussia gasped for breath, the blood in his throat almost choking him. He didn't even try to swallow it, pushing it out of his mouth in a desperate attempt to breathe. Russia's boot pressed harder into his chest, forcing more blood from wounds that had already bled too much.

"Russland, please… I surrender. We surrender." Germany's voice held more fear than Prussia had heard in a long time.

Prussia grabbed at Russia's boot, trying to get him to release the pressure on his lungs. Instead of relief, he cried out in pain as Russia pressed harder into his body, cracking his ribs. He looked up to see Russia smile, and pull his boot away. He clutched at his wounds, rolling to one side, coughing hard, trying and free his lungs from the blood that was filling them. He closed his eyes, crying out in pain again as Russia pulled him up by his hair, forcing him to stand. He tried to twist free of Russia's iron grip on his arm and hair uselessly. He kept struggling against Russia as he was dragged out of the city, America following with Germany close behind them. Once away from the smoldering ruins, Russia shoved him face down onto the ground, hard. He gasped for breath again, letting the blood seep through his lips, unable to keep it back. He didn't move, it was too painful. He opened his eyes to see his brother dropped down next to him by America.

"Both of you. Say it." Russia's voice was cold, not a shred of mercy left in it.

Prussia watched as his brother struggled to find enough breath to speak. He closed his eyes, trying to erase the image from his mind.

"I surrender…" Germany whispered.

"What was that?" Russia grabbed Germany's blond hair, pulling his head back hard enough to evoke a sudden cry of pain from him.

"He said we surrender!" Prussia reached out to grab Russia's hand away from his brother. Instead, Russia grabbed his wrist and pulled him up, then threw him back down harder than before. Prussia bit his lip hard, not willing to give Russia the satisfaction of a cry of pain.

"We… Surrender." Germany's voice was stronger, firmer.

Prussia looked back at his brother, the pain in his eyes almost more than he could take.

"Full, unconditional surrender?" America's voice came closer as the young country stepped forward, between the two brothers.

"Ja," Germany whispered, his voice shaky and weak.

"I didn't hear you." Russia pulled his head up again, rougher than before, smiling in satisfaction when Germany let out a louder cry of pain.

"Stop…" Prussia whispered too softly and choked for the other's to hear.

"Russia, that's enough." America put his hand on Ivan's arm. "I heard him."

Prussia looked up at America with something like thanks as Russia let go of Germany's hair. Was that pity he saw in his eyes? No. America would never forgive them. He doubted anyone else would either. He wasn't even sure if he forgave them.

"Let's just get them back. We have a lot of negotiations ahead of us." America nodded, trying to sound braver than he felt.

Prussia kept his eyes fixed on Ludwig as America and Russia walked past them.

"Get up." Russia snapped at them, firing a shot between them.

Prussia jumped as the dirt sprayed from the bullet hit him in the face. He looked up at Russia with hate as the stronger country followed America. He looked back at his brother and forced himself to his knees. Slowly, he stood and reached his hand to his brother, who took it, trying to brace himself to stand.

"I'll help you." Prussia smiled weakly, gripping his own side. He pulled Ludwig's arm around his shoulders, catching him with his other hand as he almost fell again.

"I've got you, Bruderchen. I've got you." Prussia bit back the pain, praying Germany didn't see it. Both of their uniforms were soaked with blood, both their own and each other's. He could barely hang on to Ludwig, clutching his brother's belt in his hand as he helped him slowly step towards America and Russia, who stood waiting for them by the trucks.

Prussia looked up at Russia with hate in his eyes, then at America, who watched with what Prussia hoped was guilt. America couldn't be happy about what Russia had done to them… could he?

Finally, they reached one of America's trucks. Prussia collapsed, shielding his brother from the cobblestone road and letting himself fall onto it first. Germany's body crashed against his broken ribs, and Prussia again coughed blood. He nodded gratefully as America helped Germany stand, and pushed him into the truck. He looked up at America's outstretched arm, ready to help him. He shook his head, standing, pulling himself up by gripping the back of the truck. He didn't need America's help. He didn't want America's help.

Once inside, he collapsed onto the bench, looking over to see that Germany had done the same across from him. He didn't fight when America tied his legs to the bench and bound his hands together. He was too weak to fight anymore. They'd lost. He didn't want to accept it, but they'd lost. He couldn't fight anymore. He looked over at his brother, who was already unconscious. Germany's blood dripped onto the floor along with his own. He looked at his bloody hands and closed his eyes, too weak to keep them open any longer. The bumpy road beneath them didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered. They'd lost. Russia had nearly killed them both. But they were alive. At least they were alive, at the very least they were both alive.

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 **A/N:** Wow guys, so... kinda long story made short: 5 years ago I wrote a Berlin Wall, Historical, Dark!Hetalia fanfiction called "Twists of Fate". My account was Hetalia-Girl-500. I lost the email for that account... so I decided to make a new one, and completely rewrite the story, which I still love. I have improved so much as a writer, and a student of history, that I think this fic will be much more enjoyable to read!

In the interest of not disappointing anyone, I may not post again for a while, as I would like to have the entire story done before posting it, so I don't just vanish into thin air again. It will be a long story. So, for now, I give you the fall of Berlin. It's not the finished story, but it's certainly a finished chapter without too much of a cliffhanger, that I hope will leave you guys excited for more!

This story will include quite a bit of history. I'm a nerd, ok?

I know of several other amazing Berlin Wall fics that start with the end of the war, but I think I had a little different take on it... I hope. I studied the Battle of Berlin for quite some time before writing this, the first chapter, and... history is sad guys. History is sad and dark. I have no sympathy for what the Germens (West, and East) did in WWII, but what the Soviet soldiers did to Berlin and her people is also pretty unforgivable. I won't give you guys a history lesson, but the more WWII and Soviet Union history you guys know, the more this fic will make sense, though I will try and explain as I go, somewhat, since the character's don't know what's going to happen. I'm not going to shy away from history though.

One of the things I kept hearing on my other story was how my Russia was quite good, so for those of you who have been hanging around for 5 years... don't worry, he isn't going to change too much from the first version. Still his crazy, psychopathic, kind, unpredictable, cruel, broken self.

I HATE Ruspru and Germanecest ( that's gross they're brothers... Ruspru makes historical sense if Prussia's not into it... but yeah... not gonna write that...nope...though there may be hints that Prussia is afraid of Russia hurting him like that... we shall see. I'm not sure if I'm going to go that dark, but there will be no smut... not my style, not my thing.) So yeah... if you're looking for a pairing based Berlin Wall fic, turn away now. This isn't it. As far as Germanecest goes... I think Germany and Prussia care about each other, and love each other, probably more than they care about/love anyone else, but that's because they're BROTHERS. They love each other like BROTHERS, and that only. I don't think a pairing is needed for them to love each other deeply, it's just not. They would, and in some ways have literally died for each other, or almost died for each other, and that's what brotherly love is like. :) #rantover

My goal is to be the most historically accurate/historically based Berlin Wall fanfic out there. We shall see. I ABSOLUTELY love reading comments/reviews, so please, share them with me! Even if it's just a few words, it really brightens my day, and I always try to reply back!

Enough yapping from me now. Full story coming soon!


	2. Chapter 2: Deals

Chapter 2

A pillar of light streamed through Prussia's prison cell, the outline of the door shining against the wall, Russia's gigantic shape coming into focus in shadow on the stone. Prussia closed his eyes, then opened them again, lifting his head from the wall, pulling his chained legs underneath the bed where he sat, trying to hide them from Russia. He wouldn't be seen as defeated. Not now. Not ever. He turned slowly to look at Russia, still in silhouette from the contrast of the hall to the dark room. Prussia looked away again as the door closed behind Russia. He forced himself not to react to the sound of approaching giant boots against the stone. It had been months since the fall of Berlin, but he could still feel the bruises from broken ribs every time he breathed too deeply. He shivered as Russia sat next to him, the unrelenting cold Russia brought with him infecting the room.

"Have you come to gloat?" Prussia spoke slowly, turning away from Russia to look at the wall.

"No. I've come to offer you a deal." Russia

"A deal?" Prussia chuckled.

"I'm not a monster, you know."

"No, you're not." _You're a psychopathic freak._ Prussia finished in his head.

"I'm glad you agree."

Prussia could feel Russia's sickening smile boring through him. He said nothing.

"You know they're blaming you," Russia sighed, almost kindly. "I know it wasn't your fault, but someone has to take the blame, don't they?"

Prussia didn't answer, looking away. Russia was being… nice? It scared him.

"And now that you're no longer a nation…"

Prussia turned to look at Russia suddenly. "Either tell me why you're here or get out."

"Do not speak to me that way." Russia's voice was stern and cold.

Prussia turned away, looking straight forward, silent.

"Fine." Russia stood, turning to leave as he spoke, "If you don't want a chance to save your baby brother, that's fine with me."

"Wait."

Russia stopped and looked back over his shoulder with a cold smile. "Da?"

"What are you talking about?" Prussia whispered.

"I told you. I came here to make a deal." Russia smiled, turning back to Prussia.

"I'm listening."

…...

Prussia glanced at Germany, who's hands were wringing under the table, his jaw clenching and releasing. He was afraid for his people. Prussia noticed the bruises on his brother's wrists, realizing with anger that the Allies hadn't been any kinder to his brother than they'd been to him. He hadn't expected them to be.

The other nations sat around the table, the Allies on one side, the Axis on the other, their bosses around them, arguing, and explaining what was going to happen to Europe, especially the Axis powers of Europe. Guards stood at the doors of the large, plain room, ready to stop anyone who tried to leave early. The room's lighting was dim. He figured it was supposed to feel calm, but it didn't, it felt threatening. He felt angry, sick, and ashamed of what he, and his brother, had done. He glanced at Poland, who hadn't once looked at him. The blonde country's arm was still wrapped in a sling, and the faint outline of a scar could be seen on his cheek. Gil had given it to him. He knew the little country's body was probably still wrapped in bandages from what they'd done. They'd left scars that would never heal. He wasn't proud of it.

"Germany," The voice of America's boss drifted back into Prussia's mind, "Will remain split into East, and West."

Prussia saw West sigh in relief. He smiled a little, he hadn't been afraid of the Allies killing him, but West had. He turned to his brother and smiled, nodding. His eyes met Russia's. He shivered. He hated what he was about to do, but everything rested on West's ability to survive. No matter what. He'd take the blame. West had to survive.

"West Germany," America turned to him, "You will be granted aid from the USA, and in return, we will begin the processes of demilitarization, denazification, democratization, and decentralization."

Germany sighed in relief, nodding. Prussia smirked, somewhat surprised the young country could pronounce such big words.

"What about East?" Germany asked, almost hesitantly.

"East Germany is formally responsible for the war. He will be shown no mercy by this conference." America shook his head, glaring at Prussia.

Prussia kept his head up, looking straight ahead, not meeting America's eyes. He half waited for his brother to defend him, but he knew Ludwig was too smart for that. He closed his eyes with a sigh as Russia stood.

"Your brother," Russia walked around the table to Prussia slowly as he spoke, "Has agreed to come with me, in exchange for your freedom, West Germany."

"W-What?" Germany stood suddenly.

Prussia looked straight ahead at the wall, afraid if he looked at his brother tears would betray him.

"You heard me." Russia cooed, "I need payment for everything I did to help the Allies during the war. Your brother has agreed, of his own free will," Russia put his hand on Prussia's shoulder, "To join the Soviet Union. He needs to learn that he has to pay for everything he did during the war, and I will help him understand this."

Prussia could hear that childish smile in Russia's voice. He didn't shiver again, at least, not visibly.

Germany faced Russia, still standing, but said nothing, his hands curling into shaking fists.

"West…" Prussia whispered, forcing his voice to steady. "West please…" He clenched his jaw tighter.

"You can't do this, I won't let you! I'll find some other way to-" Germany's voice was thick with rage.

"Shut up, West!" Prussia stood, turning to him, his eyes betraying emotions he wouldn't voice.

"I can't let you do this."

"You don't have a choice." Prussia looked away from him, unable to look at the pain in his brother's eyes. He wouldn't let himself break, not in front of Russia.

Prussia stepped forward to face the Allied nations and their leaders.

"East Germany," America's boss looked straight at him, but Prussia looked at the wall, "Do you agree from this point forward to be known as the German Democratic Republic?"

"Ja." He spoke through his teeth, trying to keep his eyes on the wall. His brother's breathing behind him was distracting, painful… he tried to ignore it.

"And you agree to live as part of the Soviet Union?"

"J…Ja." Prussia tried desperately to steady his voice.

"And you understand that you will live with the rest of the Soviet Union?"

"Ja." That thought scared him more than he would ever admit.

"And you understand that once you leave this room, from this point forward, you will have no contact with West Germany, apart from pre-scheduled, supervised meetings, determined by the Allied forces, only if deemed necessary?"

He could hear his brother's breath grow angry again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "Ja."

"In exchange for the German Democratic Republic's acceptance into the Soviet Union, Russia, do you agree to not interfere with any of the rest of the Allied forces dealings with West Germany?"

"Da."

Prussia could hear that horrible smug smile in Russia's words. He inhaled sharply as he felt the cold gloved hand touch his shoulder. He mentally kicked himself for it, angry that he would give Russia any hint that he was afraid of him.

"Germany?" America called him forward.

Prussia could feel his brother shaking with anger and grief as he walked up to stand beside him. He turned to face his brother, standing straight like the soldier he was. Slowly, he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his military jacket to reveal the black tee-shirt he always wore underneath. He let Russia pull the jacket off his shoulders and hand it to Germany, who took it, fighting back tears. Prussia took a deep, shaky breath, and reached up behind his neck.

"Bruder nein…" Ludwig's broken whisper barely made it to his ears.

Prussia said nothing, setting his jaw, forcing down the catch in his throat. He unlatched his iron cross and lowered it into his brother's outstretched hand.

Prussia met his brother's eyes, blinking back tears, refusing to allow himself to cry. He looked away, back down at his iron cross in his brother's hand. So many memories...

"Don't hurt him, Russia…" Germany whispered through grit teeth, looking up at the tall country, "Please…Please…"

Prussia closed his eyes, listening to his brother beg was almost physically painful.

"You're in no position to make demands." Russia shook his head, grabbed Prussia's shoulder again, and practically dragged him to his chair next to Lithuania, forcing him into it roughly.

Prussia noticed Lithuania wince as Russia's coat brushed past him. He'd known Lithuania since they were children, they had history. Lithuania had always been stronger than he looked. Prussia didn't want to think about what Russia must have done to him to make him so afraid. He caught Lithuania looking at him, but the dark-haired country looked away as soon as he tried to meet his eyes. Again, Prussia noticed that Lithuania was shaking.

"Are you all right?" Prussia whispered, hoping Russia couldn't hear. The iron grip on his leg let him know that he'd failed. He winced.

"I'm fine," Lithuania whispered, looking away as Russia smiled at him.

 _What have I gotten myself into?_ Prussia shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking. He wouldn't let anyone, especially Ludwig, see how scared he really was.

The negotiations seemed to take hours. Every time Prussia dared to try and look at his brother Russia's hand dug into his leg. It wasn't painful, but he hated its possessiveness. He was trying not to think about what Russia was going to do to him once they were away from the rest of the Allied countries. Everyone knew Russia was a monster, cruel, and cold, and ruthless. Russia pretended to be sane in front of everyone else, and they all went with it. They all looked the other way. Prussia didn't have that choice anymore.

Finally, the room fell silent. America and his boss stood first, then Russia and his. Prussia glanced at Russia's leader. He didn't like him. Something about him reminded him of his own boss, the one he and Germany and he had been forced to serve under for so long. There was something in his eyes that scared Prussia.

"This conference is now adjured." America's boss said confidently with a firm nod.

Prussia looked back at his brother again, standing. He knew going up to him would trigger Russia's wrath, but he wasn't sure he'd care. He didn't know if he was ever going to see Ludwig again, but he couldn't let Russia see him break, not now, not ever. He wouldn't give Russia the satisfaction. But he couldn't leave without saying goodbye...

Germany ran up to him as soon as he could and grabbed his arm before Russia could stop him.

"Take your hands, off my property," Russia said calmly, his sickening smile curling on his lips.

' _Property'._ Prussia ignored the screaming voice in his head telling him to beg America for some way out of this.

"Let me say goodbye," Germany demanded, facing Russia, his hands gripping into fists.

"Nyet." Russia grabbed Prussia's arm, ready to drag him away.

America stopped him. "Give them a minute, Ivan, for God's sake…"

Russia took a step back. "You have two minutes." Russia nodded, turning away, ordering the rest of the Soviet Union to follow him. They waited by the door.

"You shouldn't-" Prussia didn't look at Germany, keeping his hands at his sides.

"Don't die." Germany grabbed his brother's shoulders. "Don't you dare die on me."

"I'm a country, it's really hard to kill-"

"I don't care! You stay alive. You keep fighting. I will get you away from him. I promise."

Prussia ignored him. "Just… take care of Gilbird for me, ok? And don't get him the stupid blue pellets, he likes the red ones-"

"You've spent your whole life protecting me. Stop it! You do what you have to do to stay alive, but… don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. Don't do anything stupid. Stay. Alive."

"Will you take care of Gilbird?" Prussia looked up at him, refusing to acknowledge his previous sentences.

"Ja." Germany sighed finally, "Ja I will."

"Danke." Prussia nodded.

"Prussia…"

"My name…" Prussia took a deep breath to clear the catch in his throat. "Is Deutsche Demokratische Republik. Or just… Gil, or… just…your stupid older bruder."

"Gil… don't die." Germany's eyes filled with tears. He didn't care.

"Ja…Ja, ok." Prussia nodded, tears filling his eyes too. He looked up at his little brother, putting his hands on Germany's arms. His voice broke, "You keep your head up. Remember…you're almost as awesome as me." He smirked.

"You idiot…" Germany tried to force his voice to steady.

"Yeah… yeah probably…" He let the tears spill over his cheeks.

"Ich Lei-"

"Don't!" Prussia stopped him. "Don't you DARE make this harder…" His breath shook, "I… I have to go…"

Prussia jumped as his brother's arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a strong embrace. He held onto his brother just as tightly, a single, gasping sob escaping his lips. He took a deep breath, pulling away.

"GDR!" Russia's voice snapped, angrily.

Prussia looked up into his brother's blue eyes. "I…" He couldn't think of what else to say. "Auf-"

"Gill, Don't…" Ludwig's voice was thick with tears he wasn't ashamed of.

"Auf Wiedersehen… Bruder." Prussia couldn't look at him anymore. He would keep him alive. He would keep him safe. But he couldn't watch him cry. He couldn't do it. He turned towards Russia, who only smiled.

"Gil!" Germany called after him, hoping he would look back. He stood straight and gave his brother an old Prussian salute.

Prussia cleared his throat, keeping down the stupid sob that tried to force its way out of his mouth. He nodded to his brother, the tears refusing to stay in his eyes.

Russia grabbed his arm, pulling him forward. As they reached the door, Prussia glanced quickly back over his shoulder, before looking straight ahead, trying to keep up with Russia.

 _Ich leibe dich… bruder…_

...

A/N: So... I wasn't going to post another chapter until the whole thing is finished, but I'm so stupid happy with this chapter that I had to post it. Again, it ends on a cliffhanger... but kinda not. At least, I thought it wasn't bad enough to mind giving it to you guys. I worked on this chapter until I made myself cry, and the brother's goodbye was one of the hardest things to write. ever. Let me know if you liked it. I didn't think they could be too emotional in front of the others, but at the same time, they're brothers before their soldiers. They love each other (again, in a non-pairing, brotherly way!).

We got some hints about Lithuania in this one. He and Latvia do feature quite heavily later on, so I must establish him now! I hate how a lot of stories portray Liet as a complete wuss... he's not! Russia may have broken him, but he's not a wuss! Actually, I think Leit is one of the bravest characters in this whole story. We shall see how that develops later on, but he's just as much of a 'big brother' personality as Gil.

I am aware that I did make history go a little faster than it actually did, including combining the many conferences negotiating the end of WWII and the division of Europe into one conference. Also, the dissolution of Prussia is implied to have already happened, when it hadn't yet. While that is a very dramatic moment for Prussia, the biggest reason for that is the loss of his identity, which I'm addressing anyway with him becoming GDR (again, a little faster than he did in history... but yeah...) Ok. Enough history lesson. :)

As always, I love reading reviews, reactions, and comments! I try and reply to each one!

I hope you are all enjoying this so far! (well... maybe not 'enjoying'... maybe that's not the right word...)

Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers-Hetalia. Or history.


	3. Chapter 3: Property

Chapter 3

Slowly, Prussia opened his eyes to look up at a stone ceiling. His head hurt. He sat up, too quickly, his mind spinning. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the awful feeling of the room moving around him. He opened his eyes slowly and tried to take in his surroundings. He was still wearing the pants from his military uniform, his boots, and the same black tee-shirt as before. The room he was in was small, small and cold. The walls, floor, and ceiling were rock. He was sitting on a bed that looked like it could fold and latch into the wall. There was a small table with a lamp on it next to the bed.

Prussia sighed. _Not even a pen and paper? Really, Russia?_ He looked around the room. It was blank. Not even a window. He didn't mind that. No sun. He didn't like the sun. It didn't like him either. It turned him into a painful lobster of pain. He was happy to avoid it.

He stood slowly and turned to the door. He expected it to be locked but turned the handle anyway. To his surprise, it opened. He walked out the door, looking around the hallway. It too, was stone, with darkness on one side, and a long granite staircase on the other. He assumed it was the basement. He looked at the stairs, then back down the hallway. He wanted to know what Russia was capable of, and that looked like the way to find out. Slowly, he walked down the hall, towards the darkness, his red eyes adjusting quickly.

At the end of the hallway was a door, a giant, black, wooden door. He stepped towards it, hearing a splash beneath his feet. He looked down. Liquid seeped from under the door frame, dark liquid. Prussia leaned down and touched it. It was blood. He looked back up at the door, leaning against it, listening. Nothing. He tried the handle. Locked.

 _Figures._ He sighed. He didn't exactly want to know what was behind the door, but not knowing was almost worse. There was a lot of blood…

Prussia turned around, looking at the staircase. He shook his head, disturbed with his own curiosity, and walked upstairs.

Russia's house was huge. A giant mansion. But the air inside was cold and dark. Prussia shivered. It was like the whole building was infected. Like there was a deeply ingrained illness inside of it that wouldn't go away. He walked past the first long hallway, into the dining room. It was a grand room, beautiful, with ornate carvings all around it, but the soft light from old lamps was just as cold as the air. The table and chairs in the middle didn't match the room. They were plain, dull, utilitarian, and nothing more.

He turned around suddenly, feeling Russia's sharp breath on his neck. He looked up at the much bigger country, tensing his hands into fists.

"Hello, GDR." Russia smiled.

Prussia didn't answer.

"You don't want to say 'hello' to me, ptitska?" (Little bird)

"Ulgh! Don't call me that!" He didn't know what it meant, but he didn't care. No nicknames. It felt too possessive. He tried to push past Russia but was easily stopped by Ivan's arm against the doorframe.

"You don't like your cage?" Russia looked confused, even hurt.

"Nein!" Prussia looked up at him, trying to hide the panic in his voice, pushing into Russia's arm, still unable to move it.

"I don't like your language," Russia shook his head, forcing Prussia back easily. "It's ugly."

"Yours isn't much better!" Prussia planted his feet, refusing to let Russia push him again.

"Someday, I hope you learn to like it," Russia said with a dangerous smile. "In Russian, your 'nein', is 'nyet'. Why don't you try it?"

"Ny-" The word was difficult for his German tongue. "Nyet."

"Very good." Russia smiled patronizingly.

Prussia shook his head and tried to push past Russia again. Again, the bigger country held him back. "Let me go!" Prussia elbowed Russia in the ribs, trying to get away. He gasped in pain suddenly as Russia effortlessly threw him to the ground.

"You're here because you chose to be, remember?" Russia looked down at him with the same smile that Prussia was growing to hate more every time he saw it.

Prussia said nothing. He stood, slowly, afraid Russia would punch him down again, but the larger country allowed him to stand.

"You should eat, GDR." Russia smiled still.

Prussia mentally cringed at the new title, but it was better than whatever nickname Russia had called him. He refused to admit how hungry he was, but he had barely eaten since the war ended.

"I can show you where the kitchen is, da?" Russia smiled sweetly.

Prussia didn't even look at Russia. He was afraid that the sight of that smile would make the urge to punch Russia's face irresistible. He only nodded and followed Russia into the kitchen. Russia's sisters, Ukraine and Belarus were making supper.

"Vanya, you're home!" Belarus ran up to Russia, throwing her arms around his neck.

Russia pushed her away without a word. Prussia noticed her face as he pushed past her. She looked heartbroken. He turned to Ukraine, who smiled at him kindly. Her smile was nothing like her bother's. It was warm, kind, and friendly. Prussia instantly realized she would be a valuable ally.

"You know we have a new member of the house here." Russia smiled at Ukraine, pushing her hair behind her ear with a brotherly kiss on her forehead. "Will food be ready for us soon, kotyonok?" (Little Kitten)

Ukraine smiled, "Yes." She looked over to Prussia.

He couldn't tell what her expression was. Pity? He smiled back at her as she walked up to him, extending her hand.

"Welcome, GDR. I… I hope you learn to like it here." Her eyes didn't match her words. They weren't hopeful at all.

He took her hand without a reply and bowed politely. He had nothing to say that wouldn't trigger Russia's anger. He glanced back at Belarus, who silently walked back to the boiling soup on the stove. She kept her head down.

Ukraine's gentle voice broke into his thought's again. "We're all rebuilding from the war… so we don't have all the food in the world, but it'll be enough for all of us." Prussia could tell she was trying to sound more reassuring than she felt.

"Who's… all of us?" He knew he should have paid more attention in that meeting.

Russia stepped forward again, "Besides the four of us, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Hungary, and Poland. There are others, but they aren't staying here."

Prussia's stomach dropped. Poland. He didn't want to see Poland any more than he was sure Poland wanted to see him. He doubted any of them would want to see him, but Lithuania and Poland especially. He tried not to think about it, looking over to Belarus again. She was stirring the soup with a giant knife.

 _Who are these people!?_ Prussia held in another shiver of both dread and cold, suddenly realizing that he was the only one in the room not wearing long sleeves. It was freezing. He crossed his arms over his chest to keep warm, trying to look tougher than he felt, "So, what am I supposed to do until-"

"Gil!?"

Prussia turned to the sound of a tray crashing to the ground. Hungary. Her dress was torn, her hair tied back. No flower. He looked down at her boot-clad feet. She'd dropped a platter of dishes. None were broken. He rushed forward, kneeling to help her clean up. She knelt too.

"I… I didn't… I'm sorry you're here." She whispered, watching Russia walk up to Ukraine, conversing with her about the meal she was helping to prepare.

Prussia didn't react to her pity. He shook his head, she hadn't been at the meeting. "Where were you?"

"Fighting on the front lines… Russia…"

Prussia nodded. She didn't need to say more. "Yeah."

"I heard about… the spit, but." Hungary looked up at him, meeting his eyes, "I didn't realize you were sent here too. I'm so sorry."

Prussia stood, clenching his fists as Russia grabbed Hungry by the arm suddenly, pulling her to her feet.

"Be more careful next time, da?"

"Let go of her!" Prussia snapped, watching as Russia's fingers dug into Hungary's arm. He took one step back as Russia threw Hungary to the ground and turned to face him. Russia grabbed his shirt, dragging him to the wall and slamming the back of his head into it. Prussia tried to push Russia's arm off his neck as it pinned him to the wall.

"You aren't allowed to speak to me like that, ptitska." He pressed harder into Prussia's throat, smiling as the smaller country only struggled harder.

Prussia glanced over at Ukraine. She turned away and said nothing. His vision started to dim, Russia's arm making breathing increasingly difficult. "R-Russia…" He whispered, closing his eyes. He gasped for breath as Russia slammed him onto the floor, the skin over his cheekbone breaking as it struck the tile. He didn't move for a moment, trying to force oxygen into his lungs. He inhaled through his teeth sharply as he felt a well-aimed kick at his lower back. He looked up at Hungary, who stood, appalled and furious. He shook his head. _Don't stop him._

"Apologize for your words, GDR. I take you into my home, offer to let you eat at my table, and in return, you yell at me? That's not very kind."

Prussia started to raise himself to stand but was kicked down by Russia again. His head was still spinning from the lack of oxygen. He looked up to see Belarus standing over him, her knife dripping from the soup.

"Do you want help, brother?" She smiled, twirling her knife, looking down at Prussia like he was prey.

"N-Nyet."

Prussia heard fear in Russia's voice. He saw him take a step back from Belarus. He took the opportunity to try and stand again, Hungary grabbed his shoulders, helping him up. He glanced at Russia, who was still looking at Belarus and her knife. His head was clearing, and his vision was returning to normal. He stood ready to fight Russia, even if it was a losing battle. He needed a good fight. He met Russia's eyes with a smirk, daring him to fight.

Russia glanced back at Belarus, who stood looking up at him with a smile even more disturbing than Ivan's.

"Just… finish supper." Russia snapped at Belarus, turning to Prussia. "I'll deal with you later." He turned and walked out of the room quickly.

Prussia sighed slightly. He wasn't sure if he was relieved, and he doubted the confrontation was over. He looked back at Belarus. She watched Russia walk down the hallway, then back up at him. She brushed tears away from her eyes quickly and glared at him.

"My brother doesn't like you, so I don't either." She snarled, turning back to the soup, stirring it with the knife again.

Prussia looked back at Hungary, who took her arm from around his shoulders, no longer needing to help him stand. He took her wrist gently as she turned towards the door. She grimaced. He let go.

"Did he hurt you?" Prussia whispered.

Hungary nodded, "My people… what he's done…We fought hard but..." She shook her head, "It's over now. I'll get away from him someday, but for now, I'm here with the rest of you."

Prussia tried to take her hand, but she pulled away, bending down to pick up the tray she'd dropped. He noticed the edge of a bandage, wrapped around her arm, peeking out from her long sleeves.

"Gil?" She looked back at him, "Don't do anything stupid." She turned and walked out of the room.

He watched her leave. He wouldn't make any promises. He was practically an expert at stupid decisions, especially when they resulted in a fight. He turned as he heard a step behind him. It was Ukraine.

"Um… would you help me set the table?" She smiled, kindly, holding out another tray of dishes to him.

He shrugged, nodding. "Sure." He took the tray from her hands.

"Spasiba."

"What?"

She smiled again, laughing slightly, "It means 'thank you'."

"Ah. Spatzeiba?" He tried and failed.

"Gentler…" She smiled, "Spah-see-ba."

He sighed, "Spaziba"

She smiled again, "You'll get it eventually. It takes time."

"Ja."

"Da," She corrected, gently.

"Da." He didn't like the way the Russian words felt on his tongue. He missed arguing with Ludwig in German. German sounded extra awesome when he was shouting it, at least, he thought so. He clumsily turned around, walking out of the kitchen and through the hall to the dining room. Lithuania was already starting to arrange the dishes on the table. He glanced up at Prussia and turned around to leave the room.

"Hey." Prussia set the tray of dishes on the table and ran up to Lithuania.

"What do you want?" Lithuania didn't look at him.

"I… I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Lithuania looked squarely into his face. "Sorry!? Do you have any idea what you and your brother did to me? What you made me do!?"

Prussia took a step back. He'd never seen Lithuania this angry before. He shook his head, not knowing what to say. He always had something to say, but not this time. He looked into Lithuania's eyes, they weren't angry, they were hurt. Prussia sighed, and looked away.

There was a long, strained silence for a moment, then Lithuania reached into his pocket and pulled out a small handkerchief and held it out to Prussia.

"Your cheek. It's bleeding." He said, flatly.

Prussia touched his face, pulling his hand away to see blood on his fingertips. He'd almost forgotten about it. At least it wouldn't take long to heal, being a country had at least a few perks. He took the handkerchief Lithuania had offered.

"Danke." He nodded, pressing the white fabric to his skin. He pulled it away, his blood soaked through the cloth.

"Keep it." Lithuania turned away, walking out of the room through the left side door without looking at Prussia again.

Prussia watched him leave, pressing the cloth to his cheek again, trying to stop the bleeding. He turned to the dishes, reaching for them and stopping himself, looking at the blood on his fingers. He sighed. He'd only been here one day and Russia had already drawn blood. He looked back at the door where Lithuania had left. He wasn't sure if Lithuania would ever forgive him. But he would keep trying to apologize. He already had Russia to deal with, the last thing he needed was more enemies. He turned suddenly as he heard footsteps behind him. It was Estonia and Latvia. Latvia carried more dishes and Estonia carried a large steaming pot.

"Th-that's Liet's handkerchief…" Latvia said, trembling.

Prussia shrugged, pulling it away from his cheek. "Um, yeah, he let me use it…"

"That means he doesn't completely hate you," the little blond said as he set the tray of dishes on the table and began setting them up.

Prussia looked back at Estonia, who only looked at him over his glasses and shook his head.

"You've been here one day and you've already-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Prussia frowned at him.

Estonia didn't react, only walked forward, setting the pot down on the table and helping Latvia set the rest of the dishes and silverware.

Prussia turned to help them.

"Uh uh," Estonia shook his head, "Not until you wash your hands."

Prussia sighed, turning towards the door he'd come in through.

"There's a bathroom that way," Estonia nodded to the left side door, "You'd be able to avoid Belarus."

Prussia nodded, that sounded like a good idea to him. He walked towards the door, opening it slowly.

"The bathroom is d-down the hall, third door on the right," Latvia said carefully. "I… I can show you if… if you want."

Prussia looked back at the tiny blond country. He shook his head, "I'll find it." He walked through the door, closing it behind him. Latvia wasn't really a friend either. None of the Baltics were. The only person in the house he could really call a 'friend' was Hungary, and even that was stretching it sometimes. Ukraine didn't seem as threatening as the others, but she was still Russia's sister. He didn't trust her. Lithuania and Poland hated him, Latvia didn't like him, and Estonia was, as far as he could tell, completely indifferent towards him. He shook his head, walking into the bathroom. He needed to start making allies. He'd been told before that his personality was abrasive. That wasn't the word he'd use for it, but he tried to think about how to make friends with the others, knowing if he was going to keep his promise to his brother and survive, he would have to.

He turned the old metal handles on the faucet. It sputtered for a moment before letting a stream of icy water run into the bowl below it. Prussia shivered as he washed the blood off his hands, again realizing how cold he was. He'd had to give up his Prussian military jacket, but even his old black winter coat would be good enough. The house was freezing, and it was the middle of summer. He didn't know how Russia and the other's dealt with it. Sure, his own country could be cold at times, but nothing like this. This was a cold that infected everything.

He watched the bloody pink water swirl down the drain in the sink and looked down at his hands. They didn't feel clean. He wondered if they'd ever feel clean. He sighed. They were blaming him for the war… but if it kept his brother safe, he'd take it. He'd take all of it if it meant they'd all forgive Ludwig. It was his duty as an older brother, and he'd made a promise years ago. A promise he fully intended to keep. Besides, they were right. He'd done terrible things, things he wasn't, and never would be proud of.

He turned on the faucet again and splashed the freezing water into his face, trying to wipe the memories away from his conscious thought. He washed the blood off his cheek and held Lithuania's handkerchief under the water. The cold of it would help the blood come out. He scrubbed at it with his fingers, trying to get the stains out. He did the best he could, the shadow of the blood still visible in a pale pink on the white cloth, but it was mostly gone. He turned off the water again and dried his hands on the embroidered towel that hung on the hook beside the sink. He shoved the handkerchief into his pocket. He dried his face on the towel, replacing it on the hook, and walked out of the door, down the hall, and back into the dining room. Everyone else was already sitting down.

* * *

A/N: So... I think I'm giving up on not uploading these chapters as I write them. I'm just so excited to post them! I have no self-control! *sighs*

Prussia's first day with Russia is, so far, not as bad as he expected it would be. We get to actually kind of meet the Baltics! In my original fic, all the Baltics befriend Prussia a bit too readily I think. Have no fear, their relationships will all grow, but it's going to take more time than it did in the original. Leit and Poland especially have a lot of baggage when it comes to Prussia. At this point, I think Poland would be more afraid of East Germany than he would be of Russia. (that will change though, unfortunately...)

Since it was GDR's choice to become GDR and join the Soviet Union, Prussia is certainly not being as defiant as he is in most other fics. Don't worry though, he's not going to be so compliant forever. Especially if Russia keeps calling him Ptitska (Little Bird). Speaking of nicknames...

Russia actually has nicknames for everyone in this story, though you only heard Prussia's and Ukraine's in this chapter. He has pet names, (like 'Little Bird' and 'Little Kitten', and later 'Little Mouse' guess who that's for?) for most of them, and he will use the diminutive names for many of them later. So far, Belarus is the only one who's called him 'Vanya', but he doesn't like it coming from her. He really only likes it when Ukraine calls him 'Vanya'. The idea for this comes from the fact that Russia thinks of everyone as his friend, and in Russia, friends are almost always referred to by a nickname or name diminutive instead of their full first name. (I can't get a diminutive for Gilbert though, so yeah...). It also comes from Russia's aggressive possessiveness. Again, he doesn't mean any of these nicknames in a sexual way, though I know the fandom does have him call Prussia 'little bird' in the ships a lot. I still like that as his chosen nickname for Prussia, and I have plans for using the nickname later on... so it shall stick! I especially like it because it distorts something Gilbert loves. (I'm so evil...)

I brought the rating down to T, in hopes to make it easier for people to find this story. It seems that this site likes to only display K-T fics for most searches unless you specifically select "All Ratings". Please let me know if you think this fic needs to have the rating increased back to M. So far there hasn't been a lot of violence, apart from the first chapter, but it is going to get worse, much worse.

I'd love to hear your ideas, historical corrections, and language tips if you speak either Russian or German (or both!) I've actually studied both languages myself, but I know I'm a bit rusty, and I never spoke either fluently. I want to be as accurate as possible with it all. I have specifically chosen not to use Cyrillic because most English speakers cannot read it. But it's a beautiful alphabet and I'll get it in here somewhere, sometime. XD

My author's notes are always long it seems. If they're annoying, please let me know lol. As always, I love to read reviews and will try to reply to them all!


	4. Chapter 4: Dinner

Chapter 4

Prussia stopped in the doorway of the room. He looked straight at Russia, who only smiled.

"You're finally here, GDR," Russia smiled still, "I was about to send Latvia to go and find you." Russia motioned towards the chair to his left.

Prussia stepped forward without a word and sat next to Russia, across from Lithuania, with Poland on his left. He saw the blond country shudder as he sat next to him. Again, he noticed Lithuania glance at him, but look away as soon as their eyes met. He looked over at Poland, who's fists were clenching and unclenching under the table.

"Lithuania?" Russia motioned to him.

Lithuania stood, picking up Russia's bowl and bringing it to the pot of soup. He dished Prussia's food last, walking around the table to set it at his place without a word. Prussia saw him flinch when Russia grabbed his wrist, hard.

"You should have served our new guest first, Myshka." (little mouse)

"I-I'm sor-"

"You should give him your plate in exchange for your rudeness, don't you think?"

Lithuania tensed his jaw, but nodded.

Russia let go of his wrist.

"He doesn't have to-"

"There's no reason for you to get involved," Russia smiled at Prussia kindly, "After all, you are our important guest."

Prussia noticed Toris wince at Russia's words. He looked up at Lithuania, trying to silently apologize as Toris set his plate in front of Prussia and went back to sit at his place opposite him.

"Now, everyone, eat." Ivan smiled.

Prussia looked down at the bowls in front of him. The soup was a dark purple-red, with some kind of onion-like vegetable floating in it. He was hungry, but he wasn't sure he was _that_ hungry. He glanced over at Russia, who noticed his confusion.

"It's called 'Borsht', beet soup. Here," Russia reached for a dish of white foam and handed it to Prussia, "It's better with the sour cream."

 _Sour cream in soup? In hot soup?_ The idea sounded fairly repulsive.

"You'll get used to it," Russia's smile seemed genuine this time, and he certainly seemed to be enjoying the dish himself.

Prussia took some of the sour cream and dropped it into one of the bowls in front of him. He glanced up at Lithuania, who was visibly trying to avoid watching anyone else eat. He thought about handing his bowl back to him, but thought better of it. He had to choose his battles. Russia seemed to be a good mood, at least towards him, and trying something didn't seem worth the risk to him at the moment. He lifted a spoonful of the soup to his lips. It was better than he'd expected it to be, tart, with a bit of spice. He wasn't sure about the sour cream, but it wasn't terrible. He looked over to Russia and nodded.

"Not half bad." He shrugged.

"Credit where it's due." Russia motioned towards Ukraine, who smiled.

"Danke-um…" he stopped himself, trying to remember what Ukraine taught him, "Spatzeiba, Ukraine." She giggled. He'd said it wrong again, he was sure of that. He noticed Belarus looking away from everyone else. "And, to you as well, Belarus."

She looked up at him surprised. "I…" She turned back to her soup, confused.

Prussia had noticed a spark in her eyes for a moment before she'd looked away. She didn't seem to be used to being treated with any kindness, and it made him angry. He didn't like her, but she was a girl, and he tried to think of himself as at least moderately chivalrous. He turned to his soup again, taking another spoonful. It was hot, warming his throat as it went down. He needed it. He was still wearing only a tee shirt, and he was still cold. He glanced to his left at Poland, who hadn't taken a bite yet. The blond country's hands were shaking. He looked over at him.

"Are you all right?" He asked, trying to sound kind.

Poland didn't answer him, but brought his hand up to reach for his spoon. Prussia noticed the bandage around his wrist, a few red pricks of blood seeping through it. He thought of the door he'd found earlier… that couldn't have been Poland's blood…he tried to push the thought out of his mind, but glanced back at Poland. His movements were stiff, and Prussia could just barely see him trembling.

He glanced at Russia, who seemed to be enjoying his meal, then back at Lithuania, who's eyes were closed. He turned to Russia. He would try it.

"Russia?" He asked, trying to sound less tentative than he felt.

"Da?" Russia looked up at him with another smile.

"I…I'm not terribly hungry," he lied, "If it's all right with you," he added, warily, "I would like to give Lithuania his bowl back." He noticed the dark-haired country's eyes dart up.

Russia looked at him, confused, but slightly entertained. "You would do this, after he was so rude to you?"

"I can be nice sometimes, when I try."

He heard Poland cough. He ignored it.

Russia smiled more, "All right. I'll play along. Liet, you can get your bowl back."

Lithuania winced at the nickname he didn't let anyone except Poland use, and walked around to Prussia's side of the table, reaching for his bowl. Prussia noticed scars on his wrists as he took the dish. He looked up at him, with very little expression. Lithuania looked back with a very slight nod of thanks and went back to his chair.

Everything hushed into an awkward silence. It didn't feel tense, just stiff.

CRASH

Prussia jumped, looking over to Poland, who had lost his grip on his spoon, dropping it hard enough to break the bowl, causing the hot soup to splash into his, and Prussia's legs.

Prussia stood suddenly, looking down at Poland, who still sat, shaking in pain, trying to dry off his legs with his sleeve. Prussia grabbed his napkin and tried to help.

Poland recoiled, "Don't. Touch. Me." His eyes were filled with hatred.

Prussia took a step back, and tensed his lips. Ukraine was already rushing over with a towel to help Poland. Prussia looked back at Russia, who was staring at Poland with what looked like disgust.

"I'll make you eat like a dog if you do something that stupid again." Russia snapped, then sighed, looking to Prussia. "Are you all right, GDR?"

Prussia nodded. "Ja." He looked over to Poland again, who cringed every time Ukraine touched him.

The rest of the dinner finished without incident. As soon as Russia left the room, the Baltics hurried to start clearing the table.

Prussia tried to help Poland stand, noticing him struggling. Again, Poland tried to pull away.

"Stay away from me!" Poland's arm trembled in his hand.

Prussia realized Poland was too weak to even pull away.

"I'm just trying to help."

"I don't, like, need, or want, your… help." Poland's words were harsh and sharp. Prussia could tell he was trying to sound like his usual self, but he was failing.

"GDR?"

He looked up. It was Lithuania's voice.

"Help us clean up? Or do you think you're too good for that?"

Prussia set his jaw and clenched his fists. Toris was usually once of the nicest countries to be around, when he chose to be cutting with his words it was because he meant it.

"Nein. I'll help." He relaxed his hands. He wouldn't fight. At least, not now. He was going to figure out some way to make up with Toris. Somehow. He picked up some of the remaining dishes and carried them into the kitchen, following the other Baltics. On their way back to the dining room he grabbed Lithuania's arm and pulled him into a side hallway. He let go when he noticed Toris shaking.

"Look. I know. I know I was a complete… jerk to you, but… we're both stuck here, so we might as well try to get along."

Toris shook his head, "Tell that to all the people you forced me to kill." He tried to push past Prussia.

"That my _boss_ forced you to kill." Prussia stopped him, holding his shoulders with both hands.

"You didn't do very much to stop him though, did you?"

"How can you say that…?" Prussia shook his head, frowning.

"Thank you, for convincing Russia to let me eat." Lithuania pushed Prussia's hands off his shoulders,

Prussia straightened, frustrated. "You and I don't have to be friends, but at least I'll try and be civil to you." Prussia set his jaw.

Lithuania shook his head and walked away without another word.

Prussia crossed his arms over his chest. He'd at least made progress. Lithuania had said more than four words to him. He turned around and abruptly ran into Russia.

"I apologize again for Toris's unkindness to you, GDR. I will make sure he knows to be more kind to you in the future."

"Ne-Nyet. You don't have to do that." Prussia tried to shrug it off. He refused to be the cause of any more pain for Lithuania. Ever.

"He has a place to learn too, da? I cannot just let him think he can speak to my guests that way." Russia smiled and turned to walk past Prussia.

Prussia stepped in front of him again. "Don't hurt him."

Russia cocked his head to the side, looking down at Prussia, somewhere between amused and annoyed. He smiled, "Oh, that's right, you were so very rude to me earlier. Perhaps you do not understand yourself, da?"

Prussia took a deep shaky breath, "I understand just fine, but-" He gasped as Russia gripped his neck, forcing him to his knees.

"Your place is not to get in the way. Your place is not to tell me how I may, or may not, treat my property. You understand this, da?" He smiled.

Prussia gripped Russia's choking hand with his right hand, and swung a well aimed punch to his face with his left. He instantly regretted it. Russia's hold on his neck tightened more, and he gulped for breath desperately. He closed his eyes, hoping it would hide the fear in them, as Russia pulled his pipe out of his coat.

Before Prussia knew what was happening Russia was kneeling behind him, pulling his chin back with the cold metal pipe. Russia's face was uncomfortable, threateningly close to his. He tried to force the pipe away from his throat, but Russia only pulled it closer.

"This is your first night here, so I will be kind to you, but if you _ever_ dare to strike me again, I will make you regret it… da?" Russia lifted the pipe suddenly, causing Prussia to fall forward, coughing and gasping. "Is that understood, GDR?"

Prussia said nothing, too busy trying to breathe. Russia kicked him onto his back, and pressed his boot into his chest.

"I said, 'is that understood, GDR?'."

Russia towered over him. He set his jaw, tightening his hands into fists again. He nodded.

"Good." Russia smiled, and offered him his hand, pulling him up to stand upright again. "Now, you will need to sleep. You were very, very tired yesterday. You slept almost all of today. Tonight, you will sleep better, I think." Russia smiled again.

Prussia shrugged, nodding.

"Do you like your room?"

Russia had just beaten him to the ground and how he was asking how he liked his room? The dissonance of Russia's mind disturbed him.

"I… I wouldn't mind having a pen and paper, or a journal, or… something like that," He never missed a day of journaling if he could help it. Somehow it helped to keep him sane.

"I can have one sent to you by tomorrow." Russia smiled, nodding.

Prussia nodded back, "Spatzeiba." He failed again.

Russia sighed, "Spasiba. Keep practicing. You'll understand eventually."

Prussia nodded.

"All right, I have to go deal with Lithuania now." Russia's smiled.

Prussia shivered. How could he smile all the time?

Lithuania walked back into the hallway, freezing when he saw the pipe in Russia's hand.

"M… Mr Russia…" He trembled. "I'm just finishing with the dishes and-"

"Come here, Myshka." Russia smiled.

Lithuania walked forward slowly, visibly shaking.

"GDR can take those from you." Russia nodded to the dishes.

Lithuania handed them to Prussia with a look that Prussia didn't quite understand. Fear? Anger? Pleading?

"Russia please don't-" Prussia's voice was cut off by Russia.

"Turn around, Toris."

Prussia took a step back,

"Nyet, don't leave, GDR." Russia glanced back at him.

Prussia stood straight. He looked at Lithuania in terror as the dark-haired country turned around and was forced to kneel by Russia's hand on his shoulder. He tried to mentally process how he could get Toris out of this. He was about to let the dishes slip from his hands when Russia's pipe came crashing down on Lithuania's back between his shoulders. He saw Toris wince, hard, but he didn't cry out. Russia walked around to face Lithuania, and offered him help standing.

"See?" Russia looked up at Prussia with a smile, "I did not hurt him. Just a reminder to be kind." He smiled.

Prussia stared, Lithuania's trembling told a different story than Russia's.

"Now, both of you have more work to do, I think. I will be in the library. I have much work to do, and would like to not be disturbed." He smiled, and walked down the hall.

As soon as his back was turned Prussia ran up to Lithuania, "Are you-"

"I'm fine." Lithuania stretched his shoulders, grimacing. "It didn't really hurt."

Prussia didn't believe him, "Like hell it didn't."

"I'm used to it." Lithuania took the dishes from Prussia's hand and walked past him without another word.

Prussia watched him leave. The words stung. His stomach dropped. What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

A/N: It's late here, so I will make these short notes! I promise!

I'm sorry, not sorry for being unkind to Leit. And he and Prussia sure aren't getting along yet.

Poor Poland... not a lot of stories I see for him actually involve how DARK his countries history is, especially during WWII and right after it. The Soviet Union wasn't particularly kind to him either. More to develop on him though.

I feel like this chapter was less detailed than my previous chapters. Maybe it's because I'm tired, but I still like how this turned out. I love it when Russia snaps from kind to harsh, to kind, to cruel, and all over again. His ability to control his emotions is... well kinda not there. And yes, he genuinely thought he was being kind to Liet, and just teaching him, gently. How do you think Russia learned as a child?

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated! As a few of you can now attest to, I do reply back! (and will talk to you endlessly about history if you'll let me XD)


	5. Chapter 5: Soldier

Chapter 5

Prussia laid on his bed, looking up at the plain stone ceiling. He'd been at Russia's house for a while now. Lithuania had barely spoken to him, Poland refused to even look at him. Estonia was as stoic as ever, and Latvia avoided him because his older brothers did. Hungary spoke to him on occasion, when Russia wasn't around. He didn't seem to like them talking to each other. Prussia figured it was from too much history together. He didn't want them plotting against him. Prussia sighed deeply. Ukraine and Belarus would talk to him sometimes. Belarus seemed to be warming up to him, slowly. He went out of his way to make sure she knew he didn't actually mind her. She still didn't seem used to that idea. She didn't trust him, but he doubted she trusted anyone.

It was the middle of the night, but he couldn't sleep. He'd already journaled everything he could think of for the day, but his mind still wouldn't shut up. He was bored.

He sighed again. _Gilbird…_ Gilbird always cheered him up when he was lonely, or bored. He knew Germany would be taking good care of him… but he missed his baby bird. He missed his brother's dogs too. He closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away. They were too painful. He still couldn't sleep. He rolled onto his side, trying not to look at the raw stone all around him, and pulled the blanket over his shoulder. He wasn't used to the cold yet. He doubted he would ever be used to the cold. He closed his eyes. It'd been a long time since he'd prayed.

"God," He whispered, trying to think of the words to say, "I can't do this. Please.. please you have to help me…" He fought back tears. It had been a long time since he'd felt so completely, so entirely alone. There were some memories he wanted to bury so deeply they would never come back to haunt him. A single tear fell down the side of his face onto the pillow. He fought back the rest. He wouldn't let himself cry, not even alone. There was too much he had to be strong for, far too much.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. It was morning. He bolted up with a start, Russia was sitting next to his bed watching him sleep.

"Good morning, GDR," Russia smiled innocently.

"W-What are you doing here?" Prussia decided not to yell at him. Too risky.

"Did you sleep well?" Russia asked without missing a beat.

"Uh… no." He shrugged. He hadn't slept well. Too many dreams.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I think you will sleep well tonight though, da?"

Whatever Russia had meant by that, Prussia doubted it was a good thing. "Oh?" He asked simply.

"There is much work to be done." Russia smiled.

Prussia set his jaw again. Working for Russia was part of the deal, but that didn't make it any less irritating. He had been trying to avoid working too much, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Russia ceased to let that slide.

"You will be working outside." Russia nodded, "So you should wear warm clothes."

Prussia sighed, nodding in return. "All right." He absolutely hated how compliment he was being. His boss and Russia's boss were getting along wonderfully, but he could feel the tension his people held towards their new position in the Soviet Union. He didn't like it either. He knew many of them were leaving, going back to West. He didn't blame them, but he could feel himself getting weaker. It worried him more than he would admit. "I don't have any warm clothes."

"I know." Russia stood, opening Prussia's door. Latvia came in, carrying a Soviet uniform.

Prussia took it slowly. He didn't want to put it on. "What… work… am I doing?"

"You're good at commanding men, da?"

Prussia nodded with a smirk. He'd always been good at that. His people had been an army with a country. He could command men.

"We are forming a National People's Army. And you are going to train them." Russia smiled.

Prussia looked up at him, surprised. He wasn't sure he wanted to build an army. "Why?" He dared to ask.

"That doesn't concern you. What does, is that they are the best."

Prussia nodded. "In return?"

"In return, I make sure you, and your people, stay alive."

Prussia sighed. He hated to admit it, but the devastation from the war was crippling. He needed Russia's help. His people needed Russia's help.

"Fine," He said, standing and taking the jacket and cover from Latvia. He slipped it on, slowly pulling the cover over his white hair. It felt better than he would admit to be wearing a military uniform again. It felt right. He almost felt like himself again. Almost. He looked down at the trembling frame of Latvia, who wasn't even looking up, visibly afraid of him. He turned to Russia, standing straight, giving him a strong, impressive salute.

Russia smiled.

"Who am I training?" Prussia asked, noticing Latvia still shaking out of the corner of his eye.

"Most of them are already police, but some have no experience yet." Russia took out a letter from Prussia's boss and handed it to him.

Prussia scanned the words on the paper. "You want me to have them ready in four weeks?"

"Da, will that be a problem?"

Prussia shrugged, "No, I can do it, but..."

"But?"

"But nothing." Prussia stood straighter, handing the letter back to Russia, "I'll have them ready." He didn't know what they were going to be ready for. He didn't ask. He didn't think he wanted to know. He felt a tinge of guilt in the back of his mind. Wasn't that how he'd hurt so many people in the war? By looking the other way? By not asking questions he didn't really want the answers to? He forced the thoughts away.

"Khorosho! Good! I'll make sure everything is ready for you to meet the generals. They have already received orders to listen to you without question."

Prussia nodded, watching Russia walk out of his door with the same disturbing smile he always wore. Latvia was still standing next to him. He turned to the little blond. He smiled slightly. Latvia reminded him of his baby brother, back before Ludwig got to be taller than him. He hadn't heard the end of it for weeks after that had happened. He knelt down to look at Latvia in the face.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, kindly, again noticing the little country trembling. "Are you all right?"

Latvia nodded, still shaking, "I-I-I-I'm fine… he d-d-d-doesn't…"

"Hey, hey it's all right." Prussia assumed his speech worsened when he was scared. "Like I said, I'm not going to hurt you."

"I… are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"I mean… a l-l-long t-time ago you… you…"

"It's over. Like you said, that was a very, very long time ago." He put his hand on Latvia's shoulder. He drew it back when he saw the little country wince.

"Are you hurt?"

Latvia shook his head, looking down. Prussia didn't believe him.

"Latvia, are you hurt?" He asked again, almost sternly.

"O-o-only a little…"

He saw Latvia bite back tears.

"Let me see it." He almost ordered instead of asked. He tried to be gentler, "Please?"

Latvia looked up at him, trembling. "I… I'm ok… r-r-really." he looked down.

"I won't hurt you. I want to help."

Latvia looked up at him again, and nodded, very slowly. He slipped his scarlet coat over his shoulder and unbuttoned the top of his white shirt, which Gil noticed was blood stained on the collar. He sighed as the boy pulled it too over his shoulder. A blood-soaked bandage was hiding under the boy's clothes.

"His pipe?" Prussia asked carefully.

Latvia nodded, not speaking, and not looking at Prussia.

"Who dressed it?" Prussia looked at the bandage. It was expertly applied.

"L-L-Liet did." The boy was still trembling.

Prussia sighed, wondering how many times Lithuania had been the one to bandage their wounds.

"He did a good job, but you need a fresh one. Where's Toris?" He used his name in an attempt to sound kinder.

Latvia looked down again, shaking his head.

"Where is he?" Prussia asked more seriously again.

"H-h-he's.. across the… hallway." Latvia didn't look up at Prussia.

"The black door?" He knew what that meant. They all knew what that meant.

Latvia nodded, his trembling getting worse.

Prussia closed his eyes with a deep sigh, "Do you know what happened?"

Latvia shook his head again, "S-s-s-sometimes Mr. Russia… he just…get's angry and…"

"It's okay." Prussia put his hand on Latvia's uninjured arm, rubbing it gently, trying to comfort him. He was never very good at comfort. "Would you like me to help you with another bandage?"

Latvia looked up at him and nodded carefully.

"All right. Do you know where the bandages are?" He felt stupid for having to ask. He was the only one in the house besides Russia's own sisters who hadn't yet been on the receiving end of any serious injuries. Even Hungary had taken a few blows. He'd found out about those much later, otherwise, he would have taken Ivan up on the offer to make him regret punching him.

Latvia pulled his shirt and jacket back over his shoulder.

Prussia stood, surprised as Latvia took his hand. He closed his fingers around the little blond's, and let him lead him upstairs. They walked past the kitchen into a small room, practically a closet. Inside were hundreds medicines and bandages. He didn't ask.

Latvia tried to reach up to the bandages, wincing hard.

"I've got it." Prussia grabbed the bandages himself, looking down at Latvia with pity. He took some medicine from the shelf as well as Latvia motioned to it. They walked back to Latvia's room, which was on the main floor. It was small, with a cot for a bed, a small table and chairs, and two lamps. Even so, it was nicer than Prussia's own room. He didn't ask why, but it did make him curious.

"Sit." Prussia pulled one of the chairs over, motioning for Latvia to sit in it as he set the bandages and medicine down on the table beside them. He turned to the small bathroom attached to Latvia's room, and washed his hands, turning back to look at Latvia. He watched with a sigh as the little country's hands trembled as he unbuttoned his shirt.

He walked back over to him, bringing a small glass of water with him.

"Please… b-b-be gentle…?" Latvia's voice was as shaky as his hands.

It hurt that he would even feel the need to say that. "Of course." Gil smiled, nodding. He helped Latvia pull his jacket off, and watched with a sigh as the boy pulled off his shirt. He had a few other scars over his chest and shoulder, and a few on his arms. He knew Latvia was older than he looked, but it was still a painful sight.

Carefully, he started to unwrap the old bandage from the boy's shoulder. The gauze over the wound was sticking. He saw Latvia wince again.

"Am I hurting you?"

"N-n-no." Latvia lied.

Prussia could tell. He took a fresh piece of cloth and dipped it in the water, bringing it to the gauze and wetting it gently. He saw Latvia relax a little bit. He started to peel back the old gauze carefully. He bit the inside of his lip as he saw Latvia's boyish hands gripping the sides of the chair, his knuckles white.

"Does it still hurt?" Prussia asked, stopping.

Latvia nodded this time, looking up at Gil, trying to avoid crying.

Prussia sighed, and tapped the wet cloth on the gauze again, trying to loosen it's hold on the wound. He pulled the gauze up carefully, slowly. He sighed as he removed it. He examined the wound. It wasn't deep, but it was jagged, raw, and just barely scabbed over.

"What happened?" Prussia asked, almost wishing he hadn't.

"He… he got mad at me…" Latvia bit his lip, "It was my fault. I-I-I shouldn't have asked him-"

"This isn't your fault." Gil cut off his words. "This will never be your fault." He tried to keep his rage from showing through his voice. He didn't know what was worse, Russia's cruelty, or the fact that Russia had convinced the Baltics that his cruelty was justified. He picked up the medicine and applied it to the wound, biting the inside of his lip again as Latvia flinched in pain.

"I'm sorry." He sighed, shaking his head, "I'm trying to be gentle."

"It's ok. It just… It just hurts," Latvia said, still not looking at him.

Prussia nodded, it certainly looked like it hurt. He picked up a fresh piece of gauze and laid it over the wound carefully, then picked up the bandage. Slowly, gently, he wrapped it around the little country's shoulder and around his chest, just as it had been before. He wasn't quite as good at it as Lithuania, but he'd been a soldier for too long to not know how to wrap a wound well.

"There," He smiled kindly as he finished. "A little better?"

Latvia looked up at him, nodding with the tiniest shadow of a smile.

"Y-You should go now." Latvia nodded to him, "I… I don't want Russia to get mad at you."

"I can handle Russia." Gil stood, shrugging, trying to sound tougher than he really felt.

Latvia shook his head vehemently. "No. You… you haven't seen him… really angry."

Prussia set his jaw, trying not to think about that. He didn't want to see Russia truly angry. Ever.

"Please. Go." Latvia looked up at him, scared.

He sighed, nodding. "All right, I'll go. If you're sure you're all right." He reached to clean up the old bandages.

"I can do that." Latvia stopped him, standing.

Gil looked back down at Latvia. He was so small, his big blue eyes shining up at him with worry in them. He'd seen that same expression many times from his own little blue eyed blond when he was a child. So many times as he'd gone off to war, little Luddy had tried to stop him, begging him to come home.

 _Don't die. Don't you dare die on me. You stay alive! You keep fighting!_ His brother's words from just before Russia had dragged him away tore into his mind. He closed his eyes, forcing down the choke he suddenly found in his throat. He looked back down at Latvia.

"Ok. Try and avoid Russia the rest of the day?" _Just like you do every day._ He finished the sentence in his mind.

Latvia nodded. "Ok, just go!"

Prussia turned to the door, glancing back at Latvia as he walked out and down the hall again. He met Russia at the door. The giant of a man only smiled at him, clapping his arm around his shoulders, and walked outside with him to show him his soldiers.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter so soon, I know! I really do like this chapter. I LOVE writing Latvia. Especially Latvia and Prussia. I have this headcanon where Latvia seriously reminds Prussia of young Germany, and so he has a lot of 'protective-older-brother' feelings for Latvia. I think most of the Baltics feel that way about him too. But I also think that Latvia is smarter than he looks. He's going to be a very helpful friend for Gil!

Poor little Latvia... He's one character I really hate hurting... but storytelling! He and Gil need to bond somehow!

Gil training the army: The GDR actually had one of the most well trained National Armies in the 50's. It seems fitting to me that Gil would train them himself. He is, after all, a born warrior. He and Russia's relationship is pretty good right now, not that that will last forever. The remnant of his people that always fight back is going to keep his own fighting spirit alive, deep in there. He's trying to stay out of trouble for now, but as I hope you noticed, he's not afraid to defy Russia to help his friends, if he's given the chance. More Big-Brother-Gil to come!

As always, reviews are appreciated! I love talking with you all, and hearing your thoughts and theories!


	6. Chapter 6: Goodbye

Chapter 6

Prussia felt sick. So, incredibly sick. His skin was even paler than usual, his lips dry and cracked. He could feel the sweat dripping down his forehead, but he was freezing cold. His thoughts were groggy, almost like he was drunk. His body ached with pain. He looked around his new room slowly. It was better than his last one, the walls plastered and painted, an actual bed, a table, chairs, more light, even a bathroom attached to it. He was too sick to care.

Something was wrong with his country. Something was very, very wrong. He turned his head slowly to the door as he heard Russia's familiar boot-step.

"What-" The dry crack in his voice almost scared him, "What do you want."

"You're dying." Russia walked up to him slowly, sitting beside him, a bowl of water and a cloth in his hand. He touched Gil's face with the cold wet cloth as gently as he could.

Prussia relaxed a little. The touch was comforting, even coming from Russia.

"What's happening?" Prussia whispered, pressing his hand into his heaving stomach. He'd never been this sick. Russia was right, he was dying. He looked up at Russia weakly.

Russia sighed, "Your people are running away. They're leaving you to go and be with your brother."

 _Good. Let them go._ He tried to take a deep breath, ending up in a fit of coughing. Russia waited patiently until his breathing slowed to normal and his lungs stopped rattling.

"GDR, your boss, and mine have decided on a plan to keep you alive."

Gil looked up at him again, too weak to ask what the plan was.

"You're not going to like it, but you'll live. It's what's best for you."

Prussia shook his head, "Wait… what… what is-"

"That doesn't matter, not right now. What matters is that you stay alive."

It almost sounded like Russia cared. Prussia didn't believe him. He nodded weakly.

 _"You do what you have to do to stay alive"_ His brother's words rang through his mind.

"All I need you to do is sign here." Russia held out a paper and pen to him. "Your boss already ordered it."

Prussia took the pen weakly. He didn't bother to read the paper, despite his better judgment. He was too weak. He didn't care. As long as he stayed alive, though, at this point, death was almost as welcome.

"Are you hungry?" Russia asked, kindly, taking the paper and pen back from him.

He nodded weakly

"I will send someone down with food for you then," Russia smiled, standing. "I know you will be feeling much better, very soon."

Prussia looked away again, coughing hard. He was so tired. All he wanted was to slip away into unconsciousness, but it was a gift he couldn't seem to manage to grab onto. He was unsure how much time was passing, it felt like hours. His lungs shook with each breath, his chest too painful to touch. Faintly, he heard footsteps coming into his room. He looked up.

 _Lithuania._ He sighed. Of all the people Russia could send to bring him food. It had to be Lithuania. He watched as Toris set the tray of food down on the table beside the bed. He turned to leave.

"So. You still hate me?" Prussia's voice crackled, he tried to clear his throat, triggering another coughing fit. He turned to see Lithuania hadn't moved since Prussia had spoken.

"I don't hate you," Lithuania whispered. "I… I just…" He sighed, turning to look at Prussia again, "Some things are hard to forgive."

Prussia nodded, looking at Lithuania's face. He saw pity in the kind green eyes. He figured he must look like a mess.

"I'm still sorry you know." Prussia practically had to force the words from his throat.

"Stop talking." Lithuania shook his head, walking closer to Prussia. "Do you need help sitting up?"

Prussia nodded weakly, allowing Lithuania to help him. He glanced down at the country's wrists again. He managed to grab one of them, turning it to look at the scars closer. Lithuania pulled away suddenly with a small gasp, turning to leave again, obviously upset.

"What happened?" Prussia whispered. It was less painful to whisper.

Lithuania sighed, turning back to him again, unsure why he was staying in the room. "They're…" He sighed, "From um…" He rubbed them slowly, not looking at them. He shook his head, "I don't have to tell you anything."

"Does the fact that I might actually care…" the words choked Prussia, who bent over, coughing hard.

Lithuania rushed up to him again, putting his hand on his back, grabbing the glass of water from the tray he'd brought. He grabbed another handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Prussia, who took it, pressing it to his lips. When he pulled it away, there was blood on it. He helped Prussia take a drink of the water, and set the glass back on the table.

"I'm… sorry…" Prussia whispered, sitting back, gasping for breath, his face red from both fever and lack of oxygen.

"Don't be." Lithuania shook his head, looking at Prussia with pity again. "Are you all right?" He asked, almost reluctantly.

Prussia nodded. "Are you?" He touched Lithuania's wrist again.

Toris pulled away. "Stop." _Please..._

"You think you're the only country who's tried to kill himself?" Prussia chuckled darkly, looking away. He saw Lithuania freeze.

"What?" Lithuania's voice was shaky.

"How many times?" Prussia asked, unsure he wanted to know the answer.

There was a long pause as Lithuania debated internally how much he wanted to tell Prussia. Finally, he spoke. "Five." He whispered.

Prussia sighed, "Any in the past 20 years?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know that either.

Lithuania didn't move for a moment, then looked down, "Yes."

Prussia closed his eyes, turning away. The word hurt more than he thought it would. "I'm so, so sorry…"

Lithuania looked back at the white haired country. He pitied him. He'd never seen a country that sick before, except once. "I…" He paused, unsure if he should continue.

Prussia looked back at him, hopeful.

"I will never be able to forgive East Germany. Never." Lithuania shook his head. "And I don't know if I can forgive Prussia either…" He sighed, seeing the pain in Gil's eyes as he turned away, "But I might be able to forgive Gilbert."

Prussia felt like a giant weight had been lifted off of his chest. He looked up at Lithuania, more grateful than he could voice. "Danke…" He whispered.

Lithuania sighed. "I didn't say I actually did…"

"Oh come on, Liet." He tried to nickname, unsure how Toris would react.

"Really Priss?" Toris smirked.

"Hey!" Gil frowned at him. _You promised not to bring that up again..._

Lithuania laughed. "You should eat." He shook his head, picking up the plate of food. He'd actually tried to be nice to Gil. He'd brought him sausage. He smiled as Gil's eyes lit up, despite their illness.

"So you do have a heart," Gil smirked. _Too much of one sometimes._ He'd picked up on that right away.

Lithuania didn't reply but handed Gil the plate. "Do you need help?"

Gil shook his aching head carefully, "No, I'm all right." He nodded.

"Ok." Lithuania nodded back, "Do you need anything else?"

Gil paused for a moment, "Nein."

"Don't let Russia hear you say that." Lithuania reminded.

"He doesn't seem to care that much anymore." Gil noticed how much his words stung Lithuania, "Does he let you use your language?"

Toris shook his head, "Not really. He's taken most of it away… most of my culture…" He sighed. It was painful to continue that list.

Gil sighed, "I'm sorry for that too."

"That, for once, isn't your fault." Lithuania shook his head.

There was another long silence. Gilbert tried to take a bite of the sausage. It tried to catch in his throat, but it was so delicious he didn't care. There were worse ways to die. He stopped Toris again as he turned to leave.

"Why don't you hate Russia?" He asked, his voice still more hoarse than he'd like it to be.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't fight him. You don't… you just don't hate him." Prussia shrugged.

Toris looked down with a deep sigh, trying to decide which if Gil's questions he wanted to answer. "I don't hate him because I know too much. I've seen too much…" He shook his head. There were secrets about Russia he knew that he wouldn't share, at least not yet.

"Is that why you don't fight him?"

"Don't push it, Gil." Lithuania turned away, walking towards the door.

Prussia watched him leave. He pitied him. It actually scared him. The Lithuania he'd known as a child and the man he was now was almost a different person. He tried not to think about what Russia must have done to break him. At the same time, the thought frustrated him. Russia hadn't needed to fight him, or beat him, to break him. He'd just… given up?

 _No. I have not, and will not, give up._ He set his jaw. He was trying to keep himself alive, that was all. He wasn't Russia's friend, no matter how many times Russia called him 'Ptitska'. He wasn't a bird Russia could cage. He wouldn't let Russia cage him, not now, not ever. Not. Ever.

...

Prussia stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the pins on his green uniform until everything was perfect. He was meticulous, careful. It wasn't his favorite of all the uniform's he'd worn, he reserved that honor for his blues from the Silesian Wars under Old Fritz. No uniform would ever be that awesome, not to him, but he still wanted this one to look as sharp as he could. He smiled, pulling on his cover, turning in the mirror. He looked awesome. He stood straight and as tall as he could make himself. He felt like a soldier again. He felt stronger than he had since the war began. Whatever Russia had done, it'd worked. He almost felt like himself again, almost.

He turned around, hearing a light step, to see Latvia standing in his doorway.

"Well," he grinned at the boy, "What do you think?"

Latvia smiled, but just barely. "You look good." He nodded.

"What's wrong?" Prussia stepped towards him.

"It's just…"

"No, what is it?" Prussia put his hand on Latvia's shoulder.

"You look… sc-scary…"

From just about anyone else, Prussia would have taken that as a compliment. He took off his cover and knelt, looking at Latvia's eyes.

"I will never, ever hurt you, you got that?" He kept his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Latvia looked away. He wasn't sure he believed Prussia. He was becoming too close to Russia to believe him.

"Latvia. What's wrong?"

The boy sighed deeply, looking back up at Prussia. "It's nothing, Gil. I just d-d-don't like…" He had never been good at explaining himself, "You look like…l-l-like Russia."

Prussia looked at him curiously, trying to figure out what he meant. His uniform looked nothing like Russia's, not even close. It looked relatively similar to his old one in fact.

"Latvia, what do you mean? I… I don't look like Russia, I-"

"You look like you're going to _hurt people…_ " Latvia was trembling again.

Again, coming from anyone else, Prussia would have been glad to hear those words. But this was Latvia, and he cared too much about the tiny blond that looked too much like his brother.

"Well…" he tried to figure out what to say, "Military uniforms are, in general, designed to look like you're ready to hurt people." He didn't think he was helping.

Latvia chewed on the inside of his cheek, not looking at Prussia.

"Look," Gil turned Latvia's chin to him gently, putting both gloved hands on the boy's shoulders, "I'm not going to hurt anyone, especially you. Ok?"

Latvia looked into Gils' face, nodding slowly, "O-Okay."

Prussia smiled at him kindly. "All right, now, Russia and I are going to Berlin, we'll be there for a few days. You take care of the others for me, all right?" He ruffled the boy's hair.

Latvia nodded, with a soft smile. "Ok."

"Good." He stood, tucking his cover under his arm, standing up straight. He walked out of the door, Latvia following him close behind. His mind drifted to Berlin. He wouldn't tell anyone, but secretly, he was hoping he might be able to see West. Even just a glimpse of him in the distance. Something. Maybe he could convince Russia to actually let him see West. He'd been what Russia needed him to be. He'd trained one of the greatest armies in the world, again, and he hadn't fought with Russia. Maybe, just maybe, all of that would earn him a chance to see his brother. He was so lost in thought that he nearly ran into Belarus on his way down the hall.

"Watch where you're going!" Belarus snapped, glaring up at him.

"Sorry." He stepped back apologetically, "Are you all right?"

She sighed, looking up at him, "Yeah." She noticed a pin that had gone crooked on his uniform from the collision. "Here, let me fix that." She adjusted it until it was perfectly straight.

He watched, surprised she knew what she was doing. He didn't know why it surprised him. Her country had its own military, and she'd led them before. He smiled, she probably looked adorable in a uniform instead of threatening. He wouldn't dare tell her that.

"You're going to Berlin with brother?" She asked, almost absentmindedly.

"Ja-er- Da." He nodded, smiling at her.

"That's cool." She said, not looking up at him.

He nodded, "Yeah…" The conversation was awkward. He tried to figure out how to end it. He jumped suddenly as Belarus stood on her toes and girlishly kissed his cheek suddenly.

"Don't get hurt." She said, before walking away.

He stood, stunned for a moment, before turning to watch her walk away. He smiled. So she didn't hate him. That was comforting, given how much he knew she enjoyed playing with sharp objects. He walked through the long, dark halls. He looked at the beautiful paintings on hung along them. Paintings of the Tzars and their children, and their children's children. It was like they were watching him walk by, but they didn't seem angry, they seemed sad. Everything in Russia's house seemed sad. There was a cold, dark, heaviness over everything. Mournful, like something, was missing. He knew what was missing. Joy. Any kind of happiness. He wondered how long it had been since anyone had laughed in these halls, at least laughed with joy. Russia had a cruel laugh, almost a giggle when he was both entertained and upset, but it wasn't joy. He turned the corner, to walk down the long, grand, white staircase. He ran is hand over the banister, trying to imagine how incredibly beautiful the palace must have been before… everything. Russia's country had been destroyed long before the second war. It was the first, where most of the trauma had happened, and before it. He'd heard Lithuania mention 'Bloody Sunday' once, as the moment when everything had changed. He knew better than to ask Russia about it, and Lithuania refused to give him any more information either. He didn't push. As he reached the end of the stairs, he saw a some of the others already saying goodbye to Russia at the doorway. Hungary, Ukraine, Lithuania, Estonia, and Poland. They wouldn't be gone for long, but it was nice to see the other's saying goodbye to them. He smiled as Russia hugged Ukraine. Any humanity Russia showed encouraged him.

 _He's not the monster everyone thinks he is…_ Prussia noticed Lithuania shaking as Russia brushed past him, _Most of the time._ He walked down the last few steps. Hungary walked up to him, taking his hand gently, looking up at him.

"I'm glad you're not going away for long," she looked him over, "You look good in a uniform you know…you always did." She almost whispered the last sentence.

He smirked, "What are you admitting to?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." She looked up at him again, indignantly, "Just that you look nice."

He leaned in, whispering in her ear, "You look even better in a uniform than I do." He smirked, standing straight again, his grin only growing as he noticed the blush on her cheeks.

"Go away, Gilbert." She rolled her eyes, pushing him away and crossing her arms.

"Only for a few days, maybe a week." He smiled, half laughing.

"Oh, joy," she said sarcastically, smirking. "Really though… take care of yourself," she nodded.

He smiled, nodding back, "I will."

She took a step back, standing straight, and giving him her best salute, which he wasn't ashamed to admit, was just as good as his. He saluted her back with a smile.

Prussia turned to see Russia waiting for him at the door. He nodded to him, walking to Ukraine and holding out his hand for her's. She offered it, and he kissed it with a polite bow and a smile.

"See you soon, Gil." She smiled back.

He nodded to Estonia, who nodded back and walked up to Poland.

"Um... well, I'm going to be gone for a while, so..." He tried to sound kind.

Poland didn't look at him, keeping his arms crossed over his chest, looking away.

Prussia sighed, at least he tried. "I'm sorry." He reached forward to put his hand on Poland's shoulder.

"Like, just keep away from me, ok?" Poland's voice sounded more scared than he'd meant it too.

Prussia sighed again, pulling his hand back, "If that's what you want." He shook his head and walked up to Lithuania.

"I'm sure Russia has already told you to hold down the fort until we get back?" Gil smirked at him, glancing back at Russia, who smiled.

Lithuania looked over to Russia. Russia's expression changed, but only slightly. The smile was slightly more threatening.

Lithuania looked back at Prussia, "Yeah."

Prussia smiled. "See you later then," he said, turning to Russia and walking out the door and up to the black car that waited to take them to the plane.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter today!? Yes! Because the writing bug is biting me hard. And I don't mind! I'm having way too much fun writing this! This chapter was almost two, but they were both short, so I combined them. Hopefully, the time shift isn't too annoying.

I am speeding up history quite a bit, making it seem like maybe he's been with Russia for about a year at this point, but it's been much longer than that. It's now late August 1961. Anyone catch by 'bird in a cage' reference? ;)

Writing the first part of this scene for Liet was hard... and sad. Liet is one of my favorite characters (right after Prussia and Russia) so... Painful. But now Prussia knows. And they're starting to get along. Liet is still quiet and distant, and very, very hurt, but at least he's on speaking terms with Gil now! Poland on the other hand...

Yay for cool military uniforms! ;) Prussia looks pretty dang good in it, doesn't he?

Talk to you all soon! I'm not sure if I'll get another update up today, but I will hopefully tomorrow!


	7. Chapter 7: Berlin

Chapter 7

Prussia looked out the window of the car as they drove through the far east streets of Berlin, his Berlin. The traces of the war could be still be seen around the rebuilt buildings. They drove past a few more that still lay in rubble on the ground. He closed his eyes, last time he'd seen those buildings, they'd been littered with the mangled corpses of soldiers, and women, and children. He opened his eyes again, keeping his eyes fixed outside. He watched as women washed clothes outside in buckets. No one smiled. They kept their heads down. He watched them back away as soldiers patrolled the streets. Soldier's he'd trained himself. He sighed deeply as they passed the ruins of the church. His favorite building reduced to nothing but dust and stone. They turned onto another street, and his eyes met those of a beautiful young woman. Her eyes were sad, begging him, a Soviet soldier she didn't know, 'why'? He turned away, unable to look into her face.

"Sometimes, coming home is the hardest, da?" Russia spoke softly, sitting beside him in the car.

Gil turned to look at him. He was looking down, not out of the window. There was a sorrow in Ivan's voice he hadn't heard before. He'd only ever heard that kind of pain from a country, an old country, someone who'd seen too much. He nodded to Russia.

"Ja." He sighed deeply again. He almost felt angry with himself for feeling pity for Russia. He was the one who had destroyed his home, and now he dared to point out how much it hurt? But, he couldn't ignore the pain in Russia's voice. He turned to look out the window again. They passed the old brick building, still standing, where he'd dragged his brother's unconscious body as bombs fell all around them. He didn't know how long they'd sat there, leaning against the stone, as he tried to stop the blood gushing from Ludwig's side with complete neglect for his own injuries. He turned away again. He'd lived through more wars than most of the other countries, even the older ones, but that war was something different. The world had gone mad, again. It wasn't a war. It was hell.

He glanced out the window again, the hotel they were staying at coming into view. It was less than two miles from the center of the city. He saw one of his generals waiting for them at the once-grand front door.

The car came to a slow halt at the front of the building, with his side of the car facing the door. He sighed once more, opening his door.

"General." Prussia nodded to the human as he stepped out of the car.

The general stood straight and saluted him. He saluted back.

"How are the men?" Prussia asked, smiling internally to hear the militaristic tone back in his voice.

"They are well, comrade."

That term he wasn't sure about yet. He nodded once to the general, turning to watch Russia step out of the car. The giant country walked up to the general and they exchanged another salute.

"Is the project finished?" Russia asked calmly.

 _What project?_ They hadn't told him about any project. He resisted the urge to ask, but he didn't like being uninformed about things, especially when they related to his soldiers.

"Da." The general nodded.

A small dark-haired boy walked out of the hotel, wearing the uniform of an attendant. He approached the general almost timidly.

Prussia smiled a little, the three of them together were an intimidating sight. It felt good to feel powerful again.

The boy looked up at the general, "Your rooms are all ready, sirs." The boy nodded respectfully to them all.

The general gave him a single nod in return and all three of them followed the boy into the hotel. Prussia looked around the lobby. Berlin was still recovering, and the hotel was no different. It had once been one of the most beautiful in the city but was reduced to just a step above functional. The walls were plain and bare. The carpet had been stripped from the staircase, the paintings ripped from the walls, and the once beautiful gold detailing around the molding scraped away. Prussia looked around at the people working in the hotel, they were quiet, looking away from them. They kept their heads down, no smiles, no happiness. He saw some of the women quickly slip back into the staff rooms when they saw the Russia. He didn't blame them. He glanced at Russia's face, it was stoic as always, a soft smile growing on it as he spoke with the general. It made him feel sick. The last time Russia had been to Berlin, he'd destroyed it. The whole city was still recovering. His mind drifted to West. They'd divided the city between them, at least on paper. He knew many of his people still worked on the west side of the city. He smiled softly at the thought of maybe being allowed to see his brother. They were, after all, in the same city, at least for the next few days.

The three men followed the attendant upstairs, others already carrying in their luggage. Prussia smiled to see that all three of them had separate rooms. For once, he would get to be alone. He took his key from the boy with a polite nod to him and a soft smirk.

The boy looked up at him and smiled, his giant brown eyes still terrified, but less of him, Prussia thought, than of Russia.

"How old are you?" Prussia asked, kindly.

"13," The boy smiled.

"Do you have family?"

The boy looked down for a moment, "I have a mother, and three…two older sisters, sir," he said, obviously trying to hide the emotion in his voice.

Prussia sighed, "Your father…?"

"My father died in the war, sir."

"And your sister?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"Russian soldiers," The boy said, his voice visibly shaking with what Prussia guessed was anger.

Prussia sighed again, "You take good care of your mother, and sisters all right?" He reached into his pocket, slipping enough money into the boy's hand to buy at least one meal for a family of four. He noticed Russia saw him. He didn't care.

The boy looked up at him, his eyes wide with surprise and gratitude, "Danke Herr…"

"Beilschmidt," He said simply.

"Danke Herr Beilschmidt." The boy turned, practically running down the stairs.

Gil turned back to Russia, who stared at him, amused. "It's the least I could do." Gil shrugged.

Russia smiled, with a nod, "He won't forget that."

"Maybe someday he'll repay me by joining my army," He said simply, mainly for Russia's benefit.

Russia smiled again. "You're smarter than you look."

"I try." Gil smirked, looking at the key in his hand, "So, are we settling in first, or are we actually going to talk business?"

"Do you Germans ever relax?" The general chuckled.

Prussia rolled his eyes with a smirk, "Usually only when beer is involved." He smiled, they were in Berlin. He could get beer. He still hadn't gotten used to the lack-of-taste that was vodka. "And," he continued looking at his watch, "It's much too early in the day for beer."

The general laughed, shaking his head, "Well, then I suppose all we have left is business."

Prussia smirked again. He turned around to see the attendants had brought up their luggage. "I suppose we should at least take these into our rooms." He nodded, taking his suitcase from the attendant with a polite nod. He took his key, and turned it in the lock of his room, opening the door slowly. It was plain, a simple bed with tan covers, a dresser, table and chairs, mirror, nightstand, and two lamps. It was functional, nothing more. He smiled, setting his suitcase on top of the bed. Slowly, carefully, he lifted each item from its place and set it in one of the dresser drawers. Everything stacked and arranged meticulously. He smiled, it was extremely satisfying to see everything so organized. He set his suitcase in the corner of the room, adjusted his uniform in the mirror again, and walked out of the door, locking it behind him.

…

"Why won't you take me to my men?" Prussia fumed, slamming his gloved hand on the table, looking up at Russia and the General. "Why bring me all the way here, and not let me see them?"

Russia and the General looked at each other without a word.

"Honestly, why am I here?" His voice was hot with rage, "Let. Me. See. My. Men."

"All right," Russia said simply.

Gil took a step back. He hadn't expected Russia to give in so easily. "Good," he nodded, "let's go then." He saw Russia and the general exchange glances again. He ignored it.

They walked to the car without a word. He wondered why both of them had suddenly become so quiet. Once inside the car, he didn't look out the window. He glanced at Russia few times, trying to read his mind. It didn't work. He looked out the window, they were heading further into the middle of the city. He looked back at Russia, who took a deep breath before speaking.

"Do you remember when you were dying?" The giant country almost whispered.

"Ja." Gil's voice was still angry.

"And I told you that there was a plan made to keep you alive?"

"Ja…" He turned to look at Russia now.

Russia didn't speak again.

Gil turned to the window again, trying not to think about how close he'd been to death just a few months before. Slowly, they approached the center of the city.

"Stop the car…" he whispered, "Stop the car!" He turned to look at Russia. He wasn't sure if he was shocked, or angry, or both. He threw the door open before the car had stopped, running. He didn't care who saw him, or what they thought. He froze, looking straight ahead. "Nein…" He whispered, walking slowly towards the object of his horror. He reached forward and touched bare concrete. A giant stretch of concrete as far as he could see in either direction. A barrier dividing the city into east, and west. A wall. His breath grew shaky, and he fought back tears of both rage and pain.

"Nein!" He shook his head, clenching his hand into a fist. He shouted as loud as he could and slammed his fist into the wall. He heard, and felt, bones cracking in his hand. He didn't care. "WEST!" He tore off his glove and pounded his fist into the wall again, and again, and again, as if he could tear it down himself. "West…" He fought back tears, "Bruder…" He whispered, leaning his forehead against the now-bloodied concrete. He sank to his knees, leaning against the wall, his bleeding hand resting flat against it. He felt tears spill over his cheeks, and he let them.

He flinched suddenly, turning to see Russia standing behind him. He stood, seething with rage, and looked into Russia's face. "What have you done?" His voice was shaking, tears still streaming down his face, blood dripping from the torn skin of his broken hand.

"GDR…" Russia put his hand on Prussia's shoulder.

"Don't touch me." Gil pulled away.

"Gil," Russia tried again, holding Prussia's shoulder more firmly this time. "You were dying. Your people were leaving… they can't leave now. You're safe. You're getting stronger every day, you'll keep getting stronger…"

"Not like this…" He shook his head, gritting his teeth, "Not like this…" There were no more tears. He looked away from Russia, who pulled him into a hug. He didn't know if he should pull away, or fight, or let himself be comforted.

"This is keeping you alive, Ptitska." Russia's voice was kind.

Prussia shoved him away, "I. am not. your 'little bird'." He spoke through his teeth, his voice thick with hate.

"Don't you like your cage?" Russia smiled.

That smile. Prussia debated punching it off his face. He held back. Russia was right. This was keeping him alive. Without he, he had no doubt he would have died months ago. "I hate you…" he whispered through his teeth, not looking at Russia.

"Da. I know." Russia sighed, "You're still learning. It's all right." He put his hand on Prussia's shoulder again.

"Get away from me." Prussia shoved Russia's hand off his shoulder and ran back towards the hotel. He didn't stop at the car. He wanted to run the whole way. He stopped when he reached the door, leaning against the stone building, panting. He closed his eyes, trying to process everything he'd just seen. A wall. A wall to keep his people in, and his brother's people out. A wall to separate him from his brother. He set his jaw, hard, trying to keep the tears back again. He knew Russia was right. He knew this was the only way to keep his people safe, to keep them alive, to keep his country from falling apart, to keep him alive. He'd never wanted so badly to die.

" _You do what you have to do to stay alive. Stay. Alive."_ His brother's words forced themselves into his mind. He sighed, trying to fight back the tears that insisted on filling his eyes. He took a deep breath, and let out a shaky exhale. So this is what he had to do to stay alive. He hated it, everything about it, but he would keep his promise.

"Someday, little bruder, someday…" He brushed the tears away with his good hand, "I'm not getting out of your hair that easily." He tried to smile, trying to picture West. He wanted to imagine him happy. America was taking good care of him, his people were growing stronger. He was going to be all right. As long as Ludwig was all right, he would do anything, even stay away from him forever. He sighed, standing straight just as the car pulled next to him. Russia walked out, looking at him kindly. He almost thought he saw pity in his eyes. He didn't move as Russia placed his huge hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go inside, Gil," Russia said.

Prussia nodded slowly, walking with Russia. He was almost scared more by Russia's kindness than his cruelty.

"Please understand," Russia continued as they walked up the stairs, "You belong to me now. I have to protect you. I take care of what is mine."

He knew Russia was trying to be comforting, but it wasn't working. He hated being owned by Russia, but there was nothing he could do. His country was barely holding together enough to keep him healthy, he wouldn't survive a revolution, not yet.

"It's late. Rest in your room. I'll have them bring up beer for you if you want." Russia smiled at him kindly.

He nodded. A beer sounded like a good idea, especially a lot of beer. He didn't care how much he had to pour down his throat, he didn't think he was going to be able to sleep unless he got too drunk to stay awake.

…

Gil almost jumped out of bed to the sound of gunfire coming from the center of the city. He grabbed his shirt and jumped out of bed, tugging on his shoes. He grabbed his pistol, shoving it into the pocket of his sweatpants, and ran out the door and down the steps. He heard Russia's door open behind him, and the country's shout for him to stop. He didn't stop. He ran out the door, and down the dimly lit street. He didn't care how insane he looked. He stopped at the wall, looking up. He noticed the guard towers for the first time. They were still firing.

"HALT!" He yelled up at the towers. They didn't stop firing. He heard screams. He looked back over his shoulder as he saw the headlights of the car approaching. He shook his head, and took a running leap at the wall, digging his hands into the concrete, trying to pull himself over. He caught the top, just managing to look over before he fell back. He let himself stay on the ground. Another shot. He screamed in agony as he felt the bullets rip through the body on the other side of the wall. He let the tears run down his face, breathing hard. He closed his eyes with another cry of pain as the man died. He pulled himself to his feet, turning to look at Russia, who walked towards him slowly. He said nothing, only stared at him. He'd never hated someone so much.

"What have you done?" He whispered through his teeth, tears still streaming.

"GDR…" Russia's voice was calm, "They were trying to get back to West Germany, and that is not allowed."

"You're _killing_ them!" Prussia shoved Russia back.

"They aren't true members of the GDR. They aren't loyal to-"

"DO YOU THINK I CARE?" Prussia swore.

"GDR" Russia's voice was no longer kind, "They are not allowed to go back to West Germany. I will not allow it."

"This is MY country!" Prussia spat back.

"Nyet, GDR, you are _my country._ " Russia's voice was cold, colder than he'd ever heard it, "You _belong_ to me." Russia grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer, "What my government says, your government does. What I say, you do. This is how it works. I. own. you."

Prussia looked at him with more hate than he knew he could have. "You don't own me. You will never own me." His voice shook with rage, "You. can't. cage me."

"I already have." Russia let go of his shirt, pushing him back.

Prussia looked at him, his hands clenching into fists. He didn't care how much it hurt.

"Now," Russia straightened his coat, "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, your choice."

Gil set his jaw hard, looking up at Russia with a smirk. "I choose the hard way." He slammed his good hand into Russia's face as hard as he could.

* * *

A/N: It's late so I'll be brief. This was hard to write.

Please review! I always reply!


	8. Chapter 8: Hours

Chapter 8

Prussia groaned, trying to wake up. His head hurt. He opened his eyes, slowly, and looked around the room. It was all stone. He was lying on the ground, and he wasn't wearing a shirt. He noticed a few bruises that hadn't been there when they'd left for Berlin. He looked up at the room, it was empty. No windows, and only a single door, a heavy, grey door, and a single light hanging from the ceiling. He groaned again as consciousness slowly drifting back to him. He winced, realizing his wrists were cuffed behind his back. His ankles were bound. He was lying on his side on the freezing stone floor. He shivered in the cold that tried to force its way into his chest. Breathing hurt. He struggled at the cuffs, knowing it wouldn't do any good. He tried to sit up, leaning on his elbow. It wasn't comfortable, and he could feel his arm starting to go numb. He inhaled through his teeth, the pain from his broken hand slowly coming into focus again. He noticed it was bandaged. He didn't find that comforting.

"Russia!" he yelled towards the door, surprised by how dry his throat sounded. "Russia!" He let himself fall back onto the ground with another shiver, his arm already asleep. He leaned forward, letting his chest and face press against the stone. It wasn't as painful as lying on his arm, but it still wasn't comfortable. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly with another shiver. He jumped, hearing footsteps outside the door. They were too light to be Russia's. He relaxed slightly, annoyed that the idea of Russia would make him so nervous. He looked up to see Lithuania open the door and walk inside, the front of his shirt bloody. He wasn't wearing his coat. Prussia looked away.

"It's not mine," Lithuania sighed, "It's Hungary's."

Prussia looked back up at him, closing his eyes, shaking his head in frustration, "What-"

"She tried to defend you," Lithuania walked in and sat across from Prussia, leaning against the wall, "She'll be fine. It looks worse than it is."

Prussia looked up at him, trying to lean up on his elbow again.

"Don't hurt yourself," Lithuania shook his head.

"Help me sit up then." Prussia struggled.

"With how angry Russia is at you? I'm not an idiot," Lithuania shook his head again.

Prussia rolled his eyes, letting himself fall back onto his shoulder again. "Why are you here?"

"Because after Hungary defended you, I defended her."

Prussia sighed, "And?" he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"And so, for the next 48 hours, I get to wake you up every hour. Which of course means neither of us gets to sleep."

"I'm sorry, Liet."

"Don't be, I knew what I was getting into when I stopped him."

"I'm still sorry."

"Save your apologies for Russia. Maybe he'll go easy on you." Lithuania leaned back against the stone. Prussia caught him wince.

"He hurt you didn't he?"

"It's from…before you left for Berlin."

"You're a bad liar." Prussia shook his head.

Toris sighed deeply, "So I've been told."

"What happened?"

"When I was trying to stop Russia from hurting Hungary he pushed me down. I hit my shoulder on the edge of some table. It's not a big deal, just a bruise." He shrugged.

Prussia nodded. He wasn't sure if he believed that it was just a bruise, but Lithuania didn't sound injured.

There was a long pause, before Prussia spoke again, "Liet?"

"Yes?" Toris looked at him, pity in his face.

"How…" He sighed, "What do I do to-" He shook his head, unsure how to ask what he needed to, "What's Russia going to do to me?" He was more terrified than he would admit.

Toris sighed deeply, "I don't know… but I haven't seen him this angry in a long time, not since… never mind when."

Prussia nodded slowly. He wouldn't push it. "So, no sleep for the next 48 hours?"

Lithuania shook his head, "No sleep."

Prussia shivered in the cold again, he'd gone longer than that without sleep before. It was an annoying prospect, but he wasn't afraid of it. He sighed again, closing his eyes, then opening them to look up at Lithuania. "So, are we going to exchange war stories or…?"

Toris laughed a little, "Yeah, that sounds like a great trip down memory lane."

"What?" Prussia smirked, "It'll keep us awake."

Lithuania shrugged, "As long as you don't have any acorns this time."

"Hey!" Prussia almost snapped, rolling his eyes. "You just had to bring that up, didn't you?"

"You're the one who suggested we tell each other war stories." Lithuania smiled.

"Yeah well, maybe that's a bad idea."

"I told you."

"Shut up, Toris." Prussia shook his head with a smirk.

Lithuania shrugged again.

There was another long pause. Prussia looked down, trying to hide the emotion in his voice, "Are you sure Hungary is ok?"

Lithuania nodded, "Yes. I bandaged her myself."

"What did... what did he do to her?"

"Do you really want me to tell you that? She's all right, I promise."

Prussia kept his eyes down, he wasn't sure he wanted to know, "Yes. Please, I need to know."

Toris sighed deeply, "When Russia brought you back from Berlin you were unconscious. He kicked you inside… that's probably where those bruises are from," he nodded to the dark purple marks on Prussia's white skin, "She ran up to you and told Russia off. He took out his pipe and…"

Prussia closed his eyes hard, shivering in pain and disgust. "W-what did he…"

"Just a few hits, nothing bad. That faucet is the worst of it, it broke some skin on her arms, but like I said, she's all right."

Prussia sighed, relieved. Hungary was tough. She could take a few hits. He wasn't worried about her. He smiled a little to think that she would defend him against an angry Russia.

"Feel better?" Toris asked kindly.

Prussia nodded, "Yeah." Apart from his arm going numb, his chest freezing against the stone, and the cold metal handcuffs digging into his bare wrists. "So, 48 hours."

Lithuania stood, "Yeah, I should go." He walked to the door and opened it. "I'm not allowed to come and talk to you. I just have to bang on the door. I'm sorry," he said, turning back to look at Prussia for a moment. "You should give in, Gil. Maybe if you're lucky, if you're really… really lucky, he'll go easy on you."

Prussia didn't look at him, "Did it work for you?" he whispered. There was a long pause before he heard the door shut. He closed his eyes.

 **Hour 5**

Gil sighed, hearing Lithuania's fifth knock on the door. "I'm awake," he responded. "How are you doing?" he didn't expect an answer. He sighed. No reply. He rolled his eyes. He was incredibly bored. He'd already gone through all the history of his Templar days in his mind. He shifted against his bonds, trying to get more comfortable, despite knowing it wasn't going to happen. He closed his eyes with a sigh. It wasn't so bad so far. He could handle this.

 **Hour 10**

Gil jumped awake as he heard Lithuania bang on the door. He sighed. He'd been drifting off to sleep between interruptions, but it wasn't deep sleep. The cold of the stone under him was distracting. It felt like ice on his bare skin. His shoulders were starting to burn. He rolled onto his back, laying his hands flat on the floor. It wasn't comfortable, and he knew he wouldn't be able to doze off, but the pressure on his shoulders was relieved a little. His slowly healing broken hand throbbed under his lower back. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain.

 **Hour 20**

Gil shook against the freezing air. The room felt colder, the shivering harder to stop. He was hungry, and thirsty, his lips cracking in the cold air. He jumped with a gasp as he heard Lithuania knock on the door again. He was lying on his side again, and his shoulders were stiff. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. He swallowed hard. He shook his head.

 _You've gone without sleep for almost a week before. Stop complaining._ He tried to force himself to regain control of his own mind. _But you were fighting then. You weren't completely alone._

He shook his head again, slamming it once against the stone, trying to snap himself into reality.

 **Hour 30**

Gil winced, he heard Russia's footsteps outside the door. He gasped, hearing the banging on the door again. It was Lithuania's, not Russia's steps he'd heard.

 _Stop it._ He tried to tell himself, _Calm down…_ He tried to breathe deeply, but he couldn't. The air was freezing now. He could barely move. He could feel his wrists rubbed raw from the metal cuffs around them. He'd given up adjusting his position to relieve his shoulders. They were completely numb. It was better than having them burn. He closed his eyes.

 _Young Ludwig ran up to him, jumping into his arms, "Bruder!" he laughed, "You're home!"_

 _Gilbert spun him around pulling him into a hug, "Of course I am!" He kissed the little boy on his forehead, "Were you good while I was gone?"_

 _"Yes! I got a new dog!"_

 _"W-… You what?" Gil set him down, shocked._

 _"I found him. He was on the road and he was crying, and I don't like it when things cry, so I took him back here, and he's really nice, and I like him, and can I keep him big bruder, can I keep him, I'll make sure he's trained really well and-"_

 _"Slow down, slow down." Gil laughed, "Let me see him."_

 _Ludwig's eyes lit up and he ran back to get the tiny white puppy. He was adorable. The dog was cute too. Gilbert smiled, "What's his name?"_

 _"Gil!"_

 _"Really?" He smirked, amused._

 _"He has white hair, like you!"_

 _Gilbert smiled, reaching forward to pet the puppy, who's started wiggling in Ludwig's arms, it's tail wagging so fast it was a fluffy white blur._

 _"So…can I keep him!?" Ludwig looked up into his brother's face with his giant blue eyes. They were convincing._

 _"Well…"_

 _"Pleeeeeeeeeeese?"_

 _Gilbert laughed, "All right, fine. But you're the one who's going to have to train him."_

 _"Oh, I've already started! Look!" He set the puppy down and held up a finger-gun. He aimed it at the dog, "Bang!"_

 _The dog rolled over._

 _"No…." Ludwig looked disappointed._

 _Gilbert laughed again, "Keep working on it." He ruffled his little brother's hair, "You'll get him in fighting shape in no time."_

 _"So I can keep him? For sure?"_

 _Gil nodded. "For sure."_

 _"YAY!" Ludwig jumped into Gilbert's arms, burying his face against his brother's shoulder. "I'm really glad you're home…" he whispered, kissing Gilbert's cheek._

 _"Me too," Gil smiled, kissing his little brother's forehead and hugging him tighter. He set the small boy down, and turned around, kneeling. "Get on!"_

 _"YAY!" Ludwig laughed, jumping on his brother's back, aiming an invisible sword towards the door of their house. "CHARGE!"_

Sobs overtook Prussia's body and he let them. He'd cried before, but not like this. Deep, gasping sobs escaped his chapped lips, the tears stinging them. He looked up, silently begging God to listen to him. He shook his head, looking down, pressing his cheek, now hot with tears, into the freezing stone. He didn't care if Lithuania could hear him crying as he knocked on the door. He didn't care if Russia came in and tried to beat the tears away. He couldn't, and wouldn't hold them back anymore. He just wanted it to be over. Russia could kill him. He didn't care. He didn't care anymore.

 **Hour 48**

Prussia jumped again, his mind playing tricks on him. He closed his eyes. He was incredibly hungry, his throat begging him for water. He was exhausted, freezing, and the pain in his shoulders was agonizing. He breathed hard through dry lips. His throat burned with every breath, the cold air searing through his lungs. He closed his eyes, trying to drift into sleep finally. Finally the gift of sleep. He froze, hearing a heavy boot-step coming towards the door, then turn away. He closed his eyes, trying to listen, trying to make sure the footsteps were really going away. They came back. He struggled at the cuffs on his wrists, letting them dig into his broken skin. He heard the lock on the door being opened, slowly. The sound bored into his mind. He froze, breathing as hard as his aching lungs would let him as the door opened. He turned, looking up at Russia's smiling face.

"Well? How are you, GDR?"

Prussia shivered with cold again, the draft from the door sending the chill all the way down his spine. He didn't reply.

"You're shivering. Are you cold?" Russia closed the door and took another step towards Prussia.

"What do you think?" Prussia was still shaking. He wasn't sure if it was the cold, or fear. He tried to tell himself it was the cold.

He heard Russia sigh and watched as the giant black boots stepped closer to him. He forced himself not to move away from them. Russia knelt, touching his hair patronizingly. He resisted the urge to bite and Russia's hand like a dog. He closed his eyes. Russia's hand was warm.

"Your skin is so cold, GDR…" Russia almost sounded surprised.

Prussia didn't respond.

"Would you like me to give you some water?" Russia's voice wasn't quite kind, but it wasn't angry.

Prussia turned to look at him, nodding. He didn't care if he looked weak, he needed water. He watched as Russia took a canteen from his belt and held it to Prussia's bleeding lips. He took deep, desperate gulps of water, letting Russia support his head with his hand on his neck. Russia pulled the container away finally, closing the cap. Prussia laid his head back on the stone, panting, having cared more about water than breathing.

"W-what…" he tried to catch his breath, "What are you going to do to me?" He looked up at Russia.

"Oh, Ptitska…" Russia pet his hair again.

Gil tried to pull away as Russia leaned down, closer to his face, threateningly.

"You tried to escape your cage…" Russia's voice almost sounded sad, "So, I have to break your wings."

* * *

A/N: Sleep deprivation, and food/water deprivation, were two of the most common tortures employed by the SU, right along with Solitary Confinement. Prussia's tough, but he would be lying if he said it was easy for him. Also some baby Germany! (he's so cute... I can't even...) then... *crushes heart*. Prussia hadn't actually let himself sob yet, and with the lack of sleep and food, and cold... just himself alone with his thoughts... I thought it made sense for this to be the time. Things aren't looking good for Prussia.

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated! So far, I've been able to upload a chapter-a-day! I'm hoping this can continue! I'm having waaaaaay too much fun writing this! I hope you are all enjoying reading it! See you all next chapter!


	9. Chapter 9: Wings

Chapter 9

"Please, just apologize GDR, say you want to come back and fight with me. Say that you understand…" Russia sighed, kneeling next to him, his warm hand on Prussia's shoulder.

Prussia said nothing, shivering with cold. Russia's hand was warm, but he didn't let himself think about that. The idea of relying on Russia for anything disgusted him.

"It wouldn't be so hard, would it? Then this is over, no more of this. I don't like hurting you." Russia sighed.

"Just like you don't like hurting Toris?" Prussia spat back, pulling away from Russia.

"You think I enjoy hurting him?" Russia sighed, shaking his head, "I have to teach him, don't you understand? Pain is a good teacher. How would you all stay if I didn't make you?"

Prussia looked up at Russia, shocked. "What is wrong with you? How do you not get it?"

"You're the one not understanding, GDR." Russia stood with another sigh, and looked down at Prussia, towering above him.

"I understand just fine." Prussia set his jaw.

He winced hard as Russia delivered a well-aimed kick into his shins. He looked up at Russia, gritting his teeth.

"I was trying to save you." Russia's voice was still sad, almost hurt, "I was taking good care of you…" He kicked Prussia's stomach this time.

Prussia gasped, fighting the urge to cry out.

"You belong to me, and I take care of what is mine."

"I don't belong to you!" Prussia spat back, looking up at Russia with hate in his eyes. He coughed hard as Russia's boot smashed into his ribs.

"Why can't you see that this is the only way to keep you alive? I'm keeping your people alive!" Russia's voice was growing colder, and Prussia could see a spark of rage in his violet eyes.

"You're not keeping my people safe, you're murdering them!" Prussia growled, letting out a soft choke of pain as Russia's boot hit his stomach again. It hurt more than he would admit. He instinctively tried to pull away as Russia knelt beside him, inhaling through his teeth as Russia grabbed his hair, forcing his head back.

"Don't you dare talk to be about 'murder'." Russia's eyes flashed, "Not after what you've done."

Gil struggled, trying to wrench his head free from Russia's hand. "Like you're any better…" he whispered, trembling a little. He gasped as Russia clutched his hand around his throat.

" _I_ only kill people who deserve it." Russia didn't let Prussia speak again, letting his grip around his neck grow stronger.

Gil fought for breath, his vision starting to blur. He pulled his knees to his chest and kicked Russia in the stomach before the bigger country could react. Russia fell back, releasing Gil's neck and hair to catch himself. Prussia coughed hard, gasping, trying to breathe. He looked up at Russia with a smirk before Russia's boot collided with his face. He struggled weakly as Russia grabbed his hair again.

"Still trying to fight?" Russia's voice was angry.

Gil smirked, "Always." He spit blood into Russia's face.

Russia closed his eyes, letting go of Prussia's hair. He stood slowly, and sighed, turning back to Prussia, wiping his face on his scarf. "I don't enjoy this, GDR," his tone said otherwise, "but if you really want to do this the hard way…"

Prussia tried to steady his trembling breath as Russia pulled out the giant pipe. He kept his eyes fixed on the metal as Russia spoke.

"I'll give you one more chance, Gil." There was a hint of sadness in Russia's voice. Prussia didn't believe it.

Prussia brought his eyes from Russia's pipe to his face and smirked, "Do your worst."

Russia's pipe crashed into his ribs. Prussia felt them crack but still didn't cry out. He looked up at Russia with a smile, "That's more like it." He held back another scream as the pipe struck his ribs again, perfectly aimed to hit exactly the same spot as before. Prussia tasted blood. He swallowed it back, unwilling to give Russia the satisfaction.

"Only brave enough to fight me when I'm tied up, huh?" He swallowed blood again, enough to make him nervous. He didn't show it. He looked up at Russia, daring him to untie him. He shivered with cold as Russia pulled off his long coat, setting it in the corner of the room, and watched in horror as the bigger country pulled a knife from his belt. Prussia breathed hard, keeping his eyes on the blade. He tried to tell himself he wasn't afraid of a tiny knife.

Russia walked up to Prussia slowly, and knelt, looking into the terrified red eyes. He smiled and slashed the knife across Prussia's chest, not deeply, but enough to draw blood and a gasp of pain. He brought the knife to the ropes on Prussia's ankles, slicing through them, bringing the blade to Prussia's neck before he could kick him, "Stand up." He snapped.

Prussia tried to stretch his legs slowly. He rolled onto his knees, keeping his eyes fixed on Russia's face, the knife still resting against his throat. He stood, slowly.

"Turn around."

He obeyed, the knife pressing harder into his neck, but not drawing blood. He smiled as he felt Russia unlocking the cuffs around his wrists. He brought his hands in front of him, stretching his stiff shoulders.

"So, now what?" He turned, slowly, surprised that Russia allowed it.

Russia pushed him against the wall, holding the knife to his neck again. "Now, I deliver on my promise."

"Go ahead and try," Prussia smirked, and brought his knee up hard. He gasped as Russia's knife sliced under his jaw as the bigger country doubled over in pain. He pressed his hand to the wound. It wasn't deep, but it was bleeding heavily. He looked down at Russia, barely having time to register that he'd grabbed his pipe again as the metal struck the side of his face, sending him forward onto the ground.

He groaned, the room spinning, his vision blurry and dark. He tried to push himself up slowly and fell back against the stone as Russia's pipe hit his back. He turned to look at Russia, shaking with pain. He set his jaw as another blow struck across his shoulder blades, refusing to give Russia the satisfaction of hearing how much it hurt. He bit into his arm to keep himself quiet as Russia's pipe broke his skin. He tried to turn, but the pipe kept him down. He wrapped his arms around his head, hoping to protect it. The pipe crashed onto his back again, and again, and again, and again, breaking skin, muscle, and bone. He didn't make a sound. He strained up in pain as Russia kicked him onto his back, pressing the crook of the pipe into his neck. He kept his arms around his head, expecting to feel the pipe against his chest. He winced as Russia kicked his arm away, stepping it into the cold stone. Prussia looked up at him in terror for less than a second before screaming in pain as Russia's boot crushed his arm into the ground. Tears of pain filled his eyes as he tried to fight them back. He struggled as Russia grabbed his other arm, pulling him up, gripping his already bleeding wrist. He shook his head, pleading, turning away again with another cry of pain as Russia snapped his arm, throwing him back onto the ground, exposing his back to him again. He shivered as Russia knelt beside him, pressing his hand into his back. He screamed again, shaking with pain as Russia's fingers dug into the deep, ragged gashes the pipe had left. Prussia kept his eyes closed, pressing his face into the stone, trying not to move his arms. He trembled as Russia leaned in close to his face, dragging his hand from his back to his hair. He let the blood fall from his mouth, not trying to swallow it back anymore.

"I'm done now, GDR. Please… I hope this helps you understand." Russia pet his hair, almost trying to comfort him, "You still have many things to learn."

"At least…" Prussia barely whispered through the blood, "I'm not… the monster you are…"

"Oh, Gil," Russia sighed, and Prussia could hear the smile in his voice, "We're all monsters in the end."

Prussia closed his eyes, his whole body still shaking with pain. He relaxed a little as Russia stood and stepped towards the door.

"I'll send someone in to help you, GDR." Russia sighed, picking up his pipe and coat. He closed the door behind him, not bothering to lock it.

Gil coughed hard, letting the blood pour from his mouth. He tried to gauge the extent of his injuries. His lungs burned. He wondered if one of the broken ribs had dug into them. He tried to move, letting out a whimper of pain as he pulled his arms down far enough to look at them. They would heal, but it would take a while. He gasped for breath as he felt his lungs filling with blood. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain.

The door creaked open. Gil opened his eyes weakly, realizing he'd fallen asleep, or passed out, not that it mattered which. He turned, praying it wasn't Russia. Latvia stood in the doorway, with Estonia close behind him, both of them carrying medical supplies. He closed his eyes again, looking away as he saw Latvia's face. Latvia didn't look shocked, or upset, he looked like he'd expected what he saw. Prussia opened his eyes again as he felt Latvia sit next to him, and the boy's hand touched his face gently.

"Are… a-a-are you ok?" Latvia bit his lip, "I mean, obvious y-y-you're not, but… I mean…"

Gil nodded slowly, trying to swallow down the blood.

"You're going to regret doing that later." Estonia shook his head, noticing what Prussia swallowed.

Prussia looked up at him. He knew he was right.

"Y-you don't have to worry about m-me," Latvia smiled gently, pulling out a wet cloth and pressing it against the still bleeding cut on Prussia's neck, gently. "I-I'm used to blood. It… it doesn't scare me."

Prussia closed his eyes. He knew Latvia was trying to be reassuring, but it only made him feel sick.

"Now," he felt Estonia kneel behind him as he spoke, "let's see what you've done to yourself…"

Prussia winced as he felt Estonia touch his shoulder. It was close enough to his torn back to be tender. "What Russia did you mean." He let the blood flow out of his mouth now, coughing hard.

"You expect me to believe that you didn't fight back out of spite?" Estonia rolled his eyes, adjusting his glasses and taking another wet cloth from the medical bag.

Prussia ignored him, looking up at Latvia, who turned to his arms.

"He… h-h-he said… he s-s-s… he said he was going to break your wings…" Latvia trembled, and Prussia could hear tears in his voice.

"They'll heal, I'll be fine," Prussia tried to be reassuring, to himself as much as Latvia.

"I know… but it-it…" Latvia shook his head and brushed the tears away with his sleeve. "I'm so sorry, Gil…" he brushed more tears away, "Please… please don't fight him next time. Please…"

Prussia looked away, wincing again as Estonia touched the cloth to his back.

"I should probably stitch some of these." Estonia shook his head, frustrated.

"They'll heal in a few days anyway," Prussia would have shrugged if it wouldn't have been so excruciating.

Estonia sighed again and rolled his eyes. "Fine. But don't blame me if these scar."

Prussia doubted they would. He'd gotten worse injuries that hadn't. Never quite so many at once, but worse ones none the less. He turned back to Latvia with a cry of pain as the little blond touched his right arm. It wasn't as badly damaged as his left, the break was cleaner, but it wasn't any less painful.

"Where's Lithuania?" He asked, letting Latvia tend to the marks on his face and neck.

"He's sleeping," Latvia nodded, "Don't worry. He's not hurt, just tired… and a little irritable, but he'll feel better t-t-t-tomorrow. He's not hurt."

Prussia sighed, relieved. The last thing he wanted was to cause Lithuania any more pain. He turned towards the door as he heard a step. It was Russia. He shook, keeping his eyes fixed on the giant figure. Russia wasn't wearing his coat or scarf, just his normal boots, and pants, with a black turtleneck sweater. He too was carrying medical supplies, but it was more advanced than anything the Baltics had brought. He watched the giant country sigh deeply, and walk up to him, kneeling beside Latvia, who trembled in terror.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, GDR." Russia sighed, picking up Prussia's right arm.

Prussia inhaled through his teeth. He shivered in fear, trying to brace himself for the pain he knew Russia would inflict. He heard bone snap. He screamed and looked back at his arm. Russia had set it, not destroyed it.

"See? I told you." Russia smiled, laying Prussia's arm on his leg gently, carefully, while he reached into the bag he'd brought. He took out a metal brace and slipped it onto Prussia's arm, pulling the straps tight, securing the bone.

Prussia watched, terrified and curious.

"I told you. I take care of what is mine."

Prussia could hear pain in Russia's voice. He shivered again as Russia touched his left arm, which he'd crushed with his boot. He watched the bigger country's shoulders rise and fall with a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry, Gil, about all of this. I…" Russia shook his head, "I really don't like doing this to you."

Prussia looked away in disbelief. He bit back tears of pain as Russia pressed his fingers into his arm, trying to straighten the bones.

"This will take at least a few days to heal, maybe more." Russia shook his head again, "Until then, you will stay upstairs. We will continue only if we must, but first, you will heal. I'm not the monster you think I am, GDR."

Prussia didn't answer, afraid to open his mouth as Russia reached for another brace, tightening it around his left arm. He tried to pull away as Russia took a syringe from the medical bag.

"Gil, stop fighting me. This will help with the pain," Russia lifted Gil's arm onto his leg again, exposing the crook of his arm.

"The pain you caused," Prussia whispered under his breath.

"Gil…" Latvia's voice trembled.

"Only because I needed to, GDR," Russia said simply. He traced his thumb over the skin of Prussia's arm, "Your veins are easy to find at least, an advantage to being so pale, da?"

Under any other circumstances, from anyone else, Russia's words might have made Prussia smile. He enjoyed being oddly pale. It made him stand out. He flinched as Russia slipped the needle into his skin, but compared to the rest of his body, the slight sting was insignificant. He tried to take a deep breath, noticing he was still shivering. Some of it, he knew, was from cold. He was starting to have trouble keeping himself from shaking. He needed water, and food, and warmth. He watched Russia stand, and walk behind him, kneeling next to Estonia, who hadn't touched him since Russia had entered the room.

"What can I do?" Russia asked Estonia, looking down at Prussia's back with a sigh. He hated doing this. He hated every second of it. But Prussia had left him no choice.

"Here," Estonia handed Russia a pair of gloves and a packaged towel. "I'll stitch, you keep the blood from getting in my way."

"You don't have to sti-"

"If I don't, this will take longer to heal," Estonia almost snapped.

Prussia rolled his eyes and stopped arguing. He looked up at Latvia, who still trembled, not taking his eyes off Russia. He took the boy's hand carefully, unable to even close his hand around it.

"W-w-what can, can, can, can I d-d-do?" Latvia trembled.

"Go get him food, Latvia," Russia ordered.

"O-o-o-ok…" Latvia stood suddenly, letting go of Gil's hand. He smiled at Prussia and ran out the door.

"Can you lay on your stomach, Gil?" Estonia asked, trying to sound at least moderately considerate.

"I can try," Prussia said, "But…" he hated this, "I'll need help."

Estonia and Russia helped him lay on his stomach, and Estonia pulled one of the towels out from his medical bag, letting Prussia's face rest on it, instead of the cold stone.

"Are you sure we can't just move upstairs now?" Prussia groaned. He didn't want to spend another second on the floor.

"Not without making these worse," Estonia's voice was emotionless.

Prussia sighed, closing his eyes in pain as he felt gloved hands against the wounds in his back.

"I have more pain medication, some that would help numb his back," Russia sounded worried.

"That would help, yes," Estonia nodded.

Russia reached over Prussia carefully, grabbing his medical bag and pulling it to his side. He took out a few more syringes and slid the needles into Prussia's torn skin.

The relief was almost instantaneous. Prussia took a deep breath, then coughed hard, blood pouring from his mouth again, his position on his stomach driving his broken ribs further into his lungs. He panicked, trying to sit up, trying to breathe. He felt Estonia and Russia's hands on his back and sides, trying to keep him calm. It wasn't working. His head spun and he gasped for breath, blood dripping from his mouth.

"H…help me…" he whispered, desperate, choking, trying to cough hard enough to release the blood that felt stuck in his throat.

"Estonia?"

Prussia barely heard Russia's worried tone, his lungs begging him for air he couldn't give them.

"Ok, do it," Estonia said, calmly, to Russia.

Prussia felt a needle drive into his neck and everything went black.

* * *

A/N: Aaaaand, another chapter. Poor Prussia, I don't like hurting him. (neither does Russia). He's not very good at being tortured. He needs to shut up. Also, it's his panicking that caused everything at the end. If he'd tried to be calm it might have gone a bit better, however, humans (or country personifications that act like humans for the most part) tend to have a pretty bad response towards feeling like they can't breathe.

My mom was a doctor, so I had to include SOME medical stuff in here. The countries heal quite fast though, so that's why Estonia's healing expectations seems a bit... fast.

I like writing for Russia. He's so... twisted. He doesn't realize it either. I read a story once, an illustration, of a man who plucked all the feathers from a bird so it would be 'grateful for the warmth of his hand'. I think that's often how Russia thinks, even though he doesn't realize he's thinking that way. He's just so possessive that he wants the others to rely on him for everything, and he tries to take care of them. He wants them to like him. He just doesn't understand, at all. It's quite sad. He genuinely didn't enjoy hurting Prussia, that's why he came back. He's just so complicated. I like it. What do you all think?

As always, I will reply to all the reviews I can! I appreciate them all so much! They brighten my day! I can't reply to your review if you're not signed in, so thanks to Katie for reviewing several chapters now! I'm glad you're enjoying them, even if they're sad! :)


	10. Chapter 10: Nightmares

Chapter 10

Prussia opened his eyes slowly, groaning in pain. His lungs ached less, and he could at least move his shoulders. He wasn't lying on stone anymore. He was in his room, in his own bed, face down. He tried to move his shoulders. His back and chest were bandaged, and his arms still braced. He lifted his head slightly, the wound on his neck stinging. He ignored it, pushing himself up on his right hand, trying to look around.

"You shouldn't move, Gil."

Prussia turned, it was Hungary. "Elizabeta…" The sound of his own voice scared him. His throat was raw, and both talking and swallowing hurt. He shifted, turning his face towards her, trying to rest. She was right, he shouldn't move. "How long have I been out?"

"A few days." Her arms were crossed over her chest. He noticed she wasn't wearing her usual dress, just a pair of grey pants and her white blouse. Her arms were bandaged.

"Are you ok?" He asked, trying to be kind.

"Oh I'm fine, how are you, you f-…" she stopped herself with a sigh. "You're a real idiot you know."

"Meh, I keep your life interesting," he smirked.

"I have enough to deal with at the moment, thank you very much!" she put her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

"Mmph," he turned away.

Hungary sighed deeply and put her hand on Prussia's. "Are you all right?" her tone was gentle, concerned.

He sighed too, "Yeah, I'll be all right." He winced as she touched the bandages on his back. "So, did Estonia actually stitch them?" He turned to look at her again.

She nodded, "Yes, Russia helped."

"Did he hurt you?" Prussia motioned to the bandages on her arms again.

"Not much," she shrugged, "You know better than anyone that I can take a hit," she smiled.

He smirked, "Yeah, yeah I know."

"Be quiet, Gil." She rolled her eyes.

"Where's Russia?" Prussia almost didn't want to ask.

"He's… um… busy," she rubbed her upper arms nervously.

"Who?"

Hungary looked down, not answering.

"Liz, who?"

"Poland," she said, still not looking at him.

Prussia sighed, "He still won't talk to me."

"Does that honestly surprise you?" She shook her head.

"I guess not…" he looked away. "I've tried to apologize, I've tried to… help? Make things better… I don't know…"

"After what you and your brother did to him, do you really think you can just apologize?" She stared at him, confused.

"I mean… I know the beatings were...bad sometimes, but-"

"You think he's upset about a few be-" she stopped suddenly, looking into Prussia's face. "You don't know. Oh God, you don't know… do you?" She brought her hand to her mouth and looked away.

"Don't… know… what?" He reached for her hand, taking it away from her mouth, not letting it go when she tried to pull away. "Liz, what don't I know?"

"I… I can't…" She shook her head, staring at him, shocked. "How… how could you not know? How- Your brother must have known, there's no way… he couldn't have…"

"Known what? Liz, what are you talking about?" Her voice was stern, almost angry.

She pulled her hand away from his forcefully, "You'll have to ask Poland yourself." She stood, turning away from him.

"Liz… what did we do?"

She looked back at him, shaking her head, "I… you…" She looked away again, "You're an idiot, Gil…" She turned back to him, angry now. "How could not know what your boss was doing? How could you just look away? Why didn't you stop him? Why didn't you do anything? Do you know how many people's deaths you and your brother are responsible for?"

"We're no worse than any of the rest of you." Prussia's voice was hot with anger now, "Don't pretend you don't have your own dark side."

"Oh, I have a dark side, I won't argue with that, but you… you and your brother… you killed children. You killed hundreds of thousands of children…

"No!" Gil forced himself to sit up, turning to her. He didn't care about the pain anymore, "I'm a soldier. I kill men. I've killed a _lot_ of men, but never, ever, children." he prayed he was right.

Hungary shook her head in disbelief, "Yes, you have. Thousands of them. You and your brother, and… and…" she bit back tears, "and Austria…" She took a deep, shaking breath, "All of you."

"So you'd rather stay with Russia then, is that it?"

"No! If I could leave I would, this second, but I can't, because you and your brother destroyed everything! Both of you! You… the things you did… how do you not know what you've done? I can't believe you didn't know… I can't!"

Prussia looked down. He couldn't lie, not to her. "I knew…" He fought his own pride, "I knew something was going on, something… something he didn't want us to know about, probably because we would have fought back… but I never found out. I never… I never wanted to know." He looked up at her, seeing her soften with his honesty, "I followed orders. My men followed orders."

"Just like a good soldier."

The words cut. He nodded, "Yeah, just like a good soldier."

Hungary walked up to him again, putting her hand on his shoulder, "I believe you… that you didn't know… but…"

"But?"

"Gil… Poland… what you…" She sighed, "Poland isn't…" She took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts, trying to say it in a way that wouldn't hurt him, "Poland isn't going to get better… if… if he ever does it's going to take a very, very, very long time." She sighed, "You aren't going to be able to fix this, Gil. It's not going to go away, and I don't think Poland is _ever_ going to trust you again… I doubt he's going to trust _anyone_ , ever again."

"And Russia? He can't be treating Poland well either?"

Hungary shook her head, "It's… he's not quite as bad as you were, but… Gil, it's not good. I've barely seen Poland… Russia… or his boss… almost always has him…"

"His boss?" Gil stared at her, it was rare of a country's boss to get involved directly with another nation.

Hungary nodded, "Your boss did the same thing. Russia… Russia refused to hurt Poland as much as his boss wanted him to… so he's doing it himself." She sighed, "I overheard them talking once. Russia even tried to defend Poland… a little at least. It's not good, Gil. It's…" she shook her head, "It's not good."

Prussia nodded, then looked up into her big green eyes, "Elizabeta…"

"Don't." She pulled away from his shoulder, sighing as he caught her hand.

"I'm sorry."

She straightened, trying to be tough, "And which offense are you specifically sorry for?"

"We took Austria away from you, and-"

"Don't. you. _dare_ mention Roderich, Gil, don't you dare." She pulled her hand from him, shoving his broken arm away, not really caring if it hurt him.

Prussia winced, looking up at her, "He may have been your husband, but he's my friend too, and if you think I enjoyed watching him suffer in the war then you don't know me very well!"

She slapped him. He winced, hard, not looking at her.

"Shut up, Gil. Just shut up. You didn't see him after the war… you…" She bit back tears, "He didn't even touch his piano… he just…" She swallowed the choke rising to her throat and shook her head. "Do you what he told me?" She was furious now, furious but quite. Prussia wished she'd gotten angrier. It was even more terrifying when she was quiet, "He said he'd wished you'd killed him."

Prussia closed his eyes, looking away. He would rather have endured Russia's pipe again than hear those words. He said nothing.

"What?"

He heard tears in Hungary's voice.

"Don't you have anything to say to that?" She let the tears stream now. "Don't you have anything to say that the man you call friend wishes you'd killed him?"

Gil said nothing.

"Fine, if you don't care…" She turned to leave.

"Don't you dare say I don't care about him!" Gil stood, grabbing Hungary's arms, looking down at her. "Don't…" He shook his head, angry.

She shook her head, "Sometimes you really are stupid, Gil…" She tried to stop the tears still streaming down her cheeks. Hot, angry tears that refused to stay inside her. She opened her mouth to speak again, but couldn't. She leaned her head on Prussia's chest and sobbed.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as best he could with the braces on his arms. He touched her hair gently, resting his cheek on her head. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, "I'm so, so sorry." He sighed, kissing her hair, pulling her closer.

She pulled away, brushing her hair behind her ear, looking up at him. "You should be standing. Please… you should rest. Just…" She sighed, "I'll go get Estonia to change those bandages again." She touched the bandage on his neck. "I'm glad you're ok, Gil." She looked up at him again. "I'm really glad you're ok." She turned away, walking towards the door, looking back at him, making sure he laid back down. She smiled kindly, then walked out, closing the door behind her.

Gil sat back on his bed, leaning his head in his hands. _Austria, Poland... Germany... Millions of children..._ Thoughts. Thoughts he didn't want to think about, swirling around in his head and he couldn't stop them. He closed his eyes, trying to process everything. Not millions... not children. His brother would never kill children. He couldn't have known. There was no way. Austria didn't know... he was sure Austria didn't know. There was no way. _Millions?_

…

"G-Gil?"

Prussia woke up, slowly, looking towards the door. He glanced at the clock in his room. It was the middle of the night. There was another knock.

"G-G-Gil?"

"I'm coming, Latvia." He sighed, standing, walking to the door. He opened it to see Latvia wearing his pajamas, standing there in tears.

Gil knelt, making himself eye level with Latvia, ignoring the pain, "What's wrong?" He brushed the tears away from the boy's eyes.

"N-n-nightmares…" Latvia trembled.

Prussia sighed, "About?" he didn't really need to ask.

Latvia nodded. "R-r-…" He couldn't speak, closing his eyes, crying.

Prussia sighed again, pulling Latvia into a hug. He understood. He wasn't surprised.

"Do you want to stay here?"

Latvia looked up at him, surprised. "Can I?"

Prussia smiled, nodding. "Yeah, just don't kick me," he smirked.

Latvia nodded back, "I won't."

Prussia grabbed an extra blanket from the shelf and gave it to Latvia, who wrapped himself in it and rolled into a little ball on Prussia's bed.

Prussia smiled, laying back down, letting Latvia rest his head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, trying to sleep. He couldn't. He looked back down at Latvia. The boy was already sleeping. He brushed his blond waves out of his face and smiled.

 _Ludwig ran into Gilbert's room, crying. The thunder had shaken the whole house. He leapt into Gil's bed, waking him with a start, and buried his face in his brother's shoulder._

 _"What's going on, are you all right?" Gil tried to pry Ludwig's arms from around his neck, choking._

 _Ludwig shook his head, "The thunder is scary!" He sobbed._

 _"Hey!" Gil pushed Ludwig's arm away from his throat, "It's not that bad, is it?" He looked into his little brother's terrified blue eyes._

 _"It's really, really, reeeeeeeally scary!" Ludwig sobbed, "Can I stay with you? Please, big bruder, pleeeeeeeeease?"_

 _Gil sighed, looking into Ludwig's face, brushing the tears away from his eyes. "All right." He laid back down, wrapping his arm around Ludwig, who finally let go of his neck. He was almost asleep when Ludwig whispered in his ear._

 _"Can the puppy sleep in your bed too?"_

 _Gil chuckled slightly, whispering back, "Nein."_

 _"Pleeeeeeeease?"_

 _"He can sleep in your bed with you." Gil didn't open his eyes, still trying to fall asleep._

 _"Nein!" Ludwig grabbed onto his brother's neck again._

 _Gil coughed, pulling Ludwig's tiny hands down, trying to breathe, "Then no puppy."_

 _"But he'll be scared…" Ludwig's eyes filled with tears again._

 _Gil opened his eyes, looking into the little face leaning over his. He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Fine."_

 _Ludwig grinned, "Danke!" He ran out of the room, returning moments later with the trembling little brown puppy. He crawled back into bed next to his brother, setting the puppy on his other side._

 _Gil rolled onto his side, putting his arm around both his brother and the little fur ball that he liked more than he would admit. "Good night, Luddy." He smiled, kissing the boy's blond hair._

 _"Night, Gil." Ludwig's voice was distant, already half asleep._

Prussia smiled sadly, rolling onto his side, putting his arm around Latvia like he used to do for his little brother.

"Good night, Raivis."

Latvia smiled, "Good night, Gil."

* * *

A/N: Another chapter! Hopefully, I'll get two up today, but no promises. I enjoyed writing this one. Hungary and Prussia still have something of a love/hate relationship with each other... (I don't ship them, but I think they can be friends... Prussia does kinda like Hungary though. She knows, but she doesn't like him like that. This chapter is certainly lighter fare than the last one, with some adorable Latvia at the end and some more baby Ludwig. (He's too adorable... I can't even handle it...) I don't want this whole story to be all violence and gore... so baby Ludwig and Puppies was needed. XD However, it's sad to think that Latvia has such bad nightmares. Poor Latvia.

More Poland to come in future chapters. I don't like the idea that Gil, (or Ludwig!) knew what was happening during WWII. I think they must have had some idea that something was wrong, but they didn't try to find out what it was or stop it. This was true of many Germans and German soldiers. They just didn't want to know. Poland went through so much, and when he finally decides to talk to Gil, Gil isn't going to like what he hears. I promise you all I will handle this very difficult historical subject with the utmost care. I am Jewish myself (though not practicing), so this is my own history. I have nothing but honor for all the millions and millions of people who were killed. It's one of the darkest chapters in the history of our world, and that is why I think it should be addressed, even in a story.

Anyway, as always, reviews are loved by me! 3 Thank you, my dedicated readers, for taking the time to leave your thoughts! I love reading them, long or short!


	11. Chapter 11: Breathe

Chapter 11

Prussia sat on his bed trying to read. He looked down at his arms, they were still wrapped in bandages, but the braces were no longer needed. He flexed his shoulders. His back wasn't painful unless he leaned against it too hard, and the wound on his chest was completely healed. His lungs weren't as strong as they used to be, yet, but they were improving, slowly. He didn't cough as often anymore. He sighed, well enough to be bored but not quite enough to do much of anything about it. He noticed the time and closed his book, tossing it aside, and slipped under the covers, rolling onto his side, not even bothering to change out of his military pants. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep anyway. He closed his eyes, trying to escape the memories that lived in his mind. He couldn't get Hungary's words from a few days before out of his head.

Gil practically leapt out of bed as a shriek tore through the stillness. He glanced at the clock. It was 3 am. He ran out the door, not bothering to grab anything. He heard the scream again.

"Poland." He said out loud, running down the hall to his room. He threw open Poland's door and froze.

Poland kicked and screamed, pushing himself further into the corner of his room like he was trying to get away from an invisible enemy. His eyes were open, looking up, and wide with terror. His fingers were covered in blood, and Gil could see marks on his bare arms and sides where his nails had torn into his skin.

Gil shuddered. He'd never seen another human being look that frightened in his life.

Poland shrieked again, clawing at his own face, digging his fingers into his skin.

Gil ran up to him, trying to stop him from hurting himself more, grabbing onto his hands.

Poland struggled, screaming again, fighting Prussia, trying to press himself further into the corner. He scratched at Prussia's face and arms, crying with pain.

"GET AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE!" Poland screamed, begging, crying. "PLEASE! STOP!" He sobbed, wrapping his arms around his head in self-protection.

Gil took a step back, letting go of Poland, who pulled his knees to his chest, grabbing at his hair, shaking his head. Prussia watched, horrified. He took a deep breath and tried to be calm. "Poland…"

Poland screamed again, "Please! Please stop it! PLEASE!" He covered the scar on his face, sobbing.

Gil winced, the memory of when he'd given Poland that scar was seared into his mind forever. He closed his eyes, the image of the blonde country cowering in the corner, covered in blood, begging and crying for him to stop coming into focus. He opened his eyes and looked back at Poland, who leaned against the wall exactly the same way, trembling, shaking his head. He jumped as Poland screamed again. He just stood where he was, trying to figure out what to do. He watched as Poland wrapped his arms around himself, his nails digging into his upper arms until blood dripped down his fingers. Gil took a step forward to stop him again, when Lithuania pushed past him, kneeling beside Poland, who shrieked again, pressing himself into the corner, trying to get away, clawing at the wall.

"Sh! Sh, it's me. It's Liet. You're safe…sh…" Lithuania pushed Poland's sweat-soaked hair away from his face, touching his cheek gently. "Wake up. Wake up, come on." He held onto Poland's head as the country's face went blank.

Gil shuddered. Poland looked dead. He could see him breathing hard, and the tears falling from his eyes, but he looked dead.

Poland looked over to Gil, seeming to suddenly realize who he was. He cowered against Lithuania, shrieking again, shielding his head with his arms and sobbing. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" He screamed again, kicking at Prussia, accidentally hitting Toris. "Don't touch me!"

"Gil, get out of here!" Lithuania looked back at Gil, angry. "I said GET OUT!" He tried to keep Poland's hands away from his face, trying to clean the blood of Poland's fingers.

Gil took a step back towards the door.

"Don't hurt me don't hurt me don't hurt me, please… please don't hurt me, please…" Poland's voice was choked with tears, his whole body shaking with sobs. He shook his head, throwing it back against the wall.

Lithuania caught the back of Poland's head before he could slam it again. "Sh. Sh. Stop, stop, it's ok. No one's hurting you. No one's going to hurt you, you're ok..."

Poland shook his head, sobbing, trembling in fear and pain, tearing the skin on his arms.

Lithuania stopped him, "No, no it's ok. You're ok. Just breathe Felek, just breathe. You're all right… you're ok… sh, sh sh… you're ok…" Lithuania tried to pull Poland's hands away from his bleeding arms, not caring when Poland clung to him, "I've got you, you're ok…" He touched Poland's hair, trying to comfort him. He looked back up at Prussia, glaring at him silently.

Poland looked up too, seeing Prussia. He struggled and kicked, pushing Lithuania away. "Don't touch me!" He sobbed, grabbing his hair again and shrieking with the memory of pain.

"Gil, get out of here!" Lithuania's voice was furious and desperate. He tried to hold Poland's hands back, away from both of them.

Gil bit his lip, wanting to stay and help.

"If you don't get out of here..."

Poland wrenched his arms free, tearing at Lithuania's arms.

"If you don't get out of here, Russia isn't the only country you'll have to worry about killing you!" Lithuania glared at him, grabbing onto Poland's wrists firmly, trying to stop him from tearing the skin off his face. "Stop... sh, sh... stop..." He turned back to Poland.

Prussia nodded, running out of the room. He turned the corner and leaned against the wall, sliding down it, pulling his knees to his chest. He put his head in his hands, trying to process everything he'd just seen. He panted, closing his eyes. He could still hear Poland screaming, vividly. He pressed his hands against his eyes, trying to push away the images in his mind of Warsaw and what they'd done. Again, he saw Poland cowering in the corner, his bare back torn to shreds, his wrists bound and bleeding. He shuddered, realizing how skinny Poland had been. He shook his head, panic rising to his throat. He breathed hard, trying to push the memories away. He'd followed orders. He knew they were wrong but he'd followed them anyway. He tried to force his breathing to slow down.

1 _,2,3… breathe… hold… breathe…_ He tried to calm down, letting his head fall back against the wall, brushing away tears, suddenly realizing they were sliding down his cheeks. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. The screaming had stopped. He could still hear Poland crying faintly, and Lithuania's voice calming reassuring him. He stood, resisting the urge to look into Poland's room again. He turned back to his own and waited, sitting up on his bed, his head in his hands.

It was over two hours before Lithuania walked into his room. The starlight still lit the room, the sun unwilling to rise for several more hours. The days were growing shorter and shorter, the darkness making everything seem worse, more painful, and more alone.

Toris sunk down, sitting next to Prussia, who hadn't moved, on the bed.

Prussia looked up, shock hitting him in the chest. Lithuania looked worn. There was blood on his shirt and cuts on his arms, face, and shoulders. "Is... is he ok?"

"No." Lithuania shook his head, leaning forward, resting his forehead in his hand, sighing, "No he's not… but he will be… someday…" he sighed again, "I hope."

Prussia looked down, "Is it your blood?"

Lithuania nodded, "Mostly." He sighed again, exhausted, "I'm fine, it's not a big deal."

Prussia looked at him, glancing at his arms. Deep gashes from Poland's nails ran along them in no particular pattern. They were still bleeding.

"Do you want me to-"

"No. I'll clean up later." Lithuania shook his head, rubbing his eyes.

"Are… are you sure he's-"

"Yeah, no, he's really not ok." Lithuania looked up at Gil for the first time, "Not the slightest..." Toris shook his head, biting back tears, shaking his head, looking away, bringing his hand to his mouth, pressing his knuckles into his lips. "I…" he couldn't speak, trying to swallow the catch in his throat.

"Are you, ok?" Gil asked quietly.

"No." Toris shook his head, still not looking at Gil. "No, I'm not." He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to stop himself from sobbing, refusing to break. He shook his head again, "We… he was my best friend when we were kids, I would have done anything… _anything_ to keep him safe, and when he needed me…"

"You couldn't have protected him…" Gil shook his head. It was painful to say out loud.

Torus turned to him again, "You would know, wouldn't you? Considering it you were the one who…" Lithuania looked away again, sighing. "I'm sorry, Gil, that wasn't fair."

"I'd say it was fair." Prussia sighed, looking down. "I…" he paused, trying to decide how to ask his question, "What… what did… what happened to Poland? What did my… what did my boss do to him?" He was afraid to ask.

Lithuania sighed deeply, "Poland wants to tell you that himself. He knows you don't know." Lithuania swallowed the tears again, "He said he wants to watch it hurt you… that you deserve it…"

"Don't I?"

There was a long pause.

"He can't even look at you, Gil…" Lithuania shook his head, closing his eyes.

"Do you think he'll ever forgive me?"

Toris shook his head. "No." He turned to Gil again with a heavy sigh, "No I don't think he can."

Gil nodded. He hadn't expected him to. "Is he going to… be normal again?"

"Normal? No." Lithuania shook his head, "No he'll never be normal. I don't even know if he'll ever even be strong again…" He looked down, holding back tears, "But… he'll be ok. It'll take a long time, but… I know he'll be ok. He's tougher than he looks," he smiled sadly.

"Liet?" Gil put his hand on Lithuania's shoulder, pulling it back as the dark-haired country winced. He paused for a moment, waiting until Lithuania looked at him, "Are you ok?"

Lithuania sighed deeply, nodding. "I will be. It's just…" tears filled his eyes, "It's not easy… seeing him like… that." He sighed again, "But I'll be ok. He'll be ok. Eventually."

"Maybe I should go and talk to-"

"Don't you even think about it." Toris shook his head, almost laughing. "You know, sometimes you really are as dumb as you look."

"Hey…" Gil rolled his eyes. "I'm not the one with a ponytail."

Lithuania glared at him, "It's practical."

"Not as practical as short hair."

Lithuania shrugged, then looked down again.

Prussia caught him wince. "Do your arms hurt?"

"Yeah. Yeah… my arms, yeah," he nodded.

Gil crossed his arms, "Remember when I told you that you were a terrible liar?"

Lithuania sighed.

"What… what's wrong? Did Russia hurt you?"

Lithuania nodded, reluctantly.

"What did he-"

"It doesn't matter." Lithuania shook his head, "It'll heal. It's not bad."

"Let me see." Gil reached up, touching the back of Lithuania's shirt.

Toris pulled away with a shudder, slapping Prussia's hand away, a flash of panic in his eyes. He relaxed, "Sorry…" He looked away.

"Toris…?"

"I just um… I should go and uh-"

"Oh no you don't… not until you prove that you're all right." Gil stood, facing Toris, blocking him from the door.

"Gil, please…" he looked up at him, pleading, "Haven't we both been through enough today already, please, Gil…"

"Promise me that you're ok?"

"I promise." Lithuania nodded, standing.

Gil looked into Lithuania's face, trying to decide if he was being truthful or not. "Ok. Ok, I believe you." He stepped out of the way.

Toris looked back at him, nodding, "Thank you," he took a step towards the door, then turned back to Gil, "Promise me you won't talk to Poland?"

"I promise."

"When he's ready, he'll talk to you." Lithuania nodded, walking out of the door, closing it behind him.

Gil shook his head, sitting back on his bed, letting himself fall back onto it with a heavy sigh.

* * *

A/N: Another relatively sad chapter *hugs Poland* Poland has extremely severe PTSD, which is more than reasonable, considering. As Lithuania said, he will get better, but it will take time, and some of the scars will never heal. I think all the countries can heal mentally from just about anything given enough time, but as we all know, some physical scars (depending on how they were given) will remain on them forever. War leaves marks. Permanently. Lithuania and Prussia are getting along better now, though they're still not what I would call 'friends' quite yet. More Poland to come.

Also we haven't seen Russia in a while...

Reviewers are sent virtual cookies and hugs! Thank you all so much for taking the time to review this story! I know I say it at the end of every chapter, but it really does mean a lot to me! I love hearing your thoughts! 3


	12. Chapter 12: Dancing

Chapter 12

Prussia turned the final page of his book, reading the last few sentences. He smiled. Finishing a good book was always a bittersweet moment. He didn't enjoy reading as much as his brother, but it passed the time, especially while he was healing. He stood from his chair in his room, taking his boots off the table he'd been resting them on. He took the book with him, walking into the hallway. It was quiet. He looked back into his room, realizing it was well past midnight. He walked down the long, sad halls, past the Baltic's rooms. He glanced at Poland's door but didn't look in. He traced his hand along the beautiful white molding halfway up the hallway, dividing detailed paintwork from solid grey. There were mirrors on both sides of the walls. He paused, looking at himself in one of them. He looked more tired than he had when he'd arrived, and he was much thinner. His arms had almost fully healed, though a few residual bruises could be seen on them still.

He sighed, knowing that along with healing, came more time with Russia. He hadn't forgiven him. He would never forgive him. He hadn't slept well since they'd brought him upstairs. The unrest of his people made his stomach turn. He knew every time they killed someone trying to get over the wall, he could feel it. He'd felt pain from wars before, a deep ache in his chest when thousands of soldiers would die, but never like this. This was different. Everything was different.

He turned away from the mirror, continuing to walk towards the library. He wasn't sure if he was going to pick up another book, but he wanted to look. Everyone was asleep, another reason he wasn't. The whole house was still, still and cold. Sometimes at night, it was almost creepy, like the walls had secrets of their own. He tried not to think about that. He turned into another hallway. So many hallways. The house was far bigger than it needed to be for just a few people. It was more like a palace. They stayed in one small corner of it, the rest left untended and alone. Lithuania had told him that the revolution had caused most of the rest of the house to be looted and destroyed.

He shivered, hearing music fade in as he walked down the hallway. It was coming from the third floor. No one was ever on the third floor. They all slept on the second and worked on the first. He'd never even been up there. He debated continuing towards the hallway and writing it off as just another strange thing about Russia's house, but he was curious. He doubled back to the door that lead to the old servant's staircase. He turned the handle, and to his surprise, the door opened, the music growing louder. He walked up the stairs slowly, setting his book at the top of the landing, turning the corner to walk up the next set, the music more prominent with every step. He walked through the already-open door at the top of the stairs. Another long hallway stood before him. He could clearly see that it was once incredibly beautiful, but now it stood in ruins. Cobwebs draped over the ceiling, the floor had been torn apart for the fine wood, leaving only the old under-layer, almost rotting, covered in a thick layer of dust. There were footprints in it. He followed them, letting them lead him to a huge set of double doors. The music was very loud now. He put his hand on the door handle, and cracked it open, looking inside the ballroom.

It was Belarus. She was dancing, her arms around an invisible figure. Prussia kept watching, curious, staying behind the door. It was like watching a painting move. Belarus wore a beautiful, long, sky blue gown, her hair falling over her shoulders and back in soft curls. She laughed, spinning, holding the hand of her unseen dance partner. Prussia smiled, he'd never heard her laugh before. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. He tried to look around the room without opening the door further. He couldn't see where the music was coming from. He heard more laughter, people talking, and children playing. He shivered. There was no one else in the room with her.

Belarus laughed again, letting her invisible partner lower her into a dip. She smiled, standing and touching his face. She curtseyed a low, noble curtsey. As she stood, the music slipped away, the sounds of the grand ball fading with it. Tears streamed down her face as she turned to watch everyone drift away. She smiled suddenly, leaning down to hug one of the children, who ran to her before fading with the rest of his family. She stayed on her knees in the center of the dance floor. She brought her hands to her face and wept.

Prussia debated walking up to her and trying to comfort her, but he waited, watching. Too many strange things were happening for him to risk walking into that room, even though it was hard to watch a girl cry.

Belarus let the sobs overtake her, her thin frame shaking. She looked up again, around the room, like she was watching people leave.

Prussia felt cold suddenly, even more than usual. It was a different kind of cold. He turned back to Belarus, who still knelt on the floor. He saw a shadow through the door at the other side of the room. The door opened and Belarus stood. He tried to see who was on the other side.

 _Liet._ He stared, shocked.

Toris, dressed in his formal military uniform, walked up to Natalya, taking her hand and touching her cheek, wiping away her tears. "You still dance with him?"

"It makes him smile. It makes them happy…" Natalya smiled sadly, letting Toris push more tears away from her eyes.

"Does Ivan know you're up here."

"No…" She looked up at him, "And if you tell him I'll kill you." She smirked, playfully.

He smiled back, nodding, "Your secret's safe with me."

There was a long pause before Natalya spoke again, "Why are you here, Torshka?"

"I miss you." He touched her cheek, brushing her hair behind her ear.

She looked down, bit smiled, "I know…"

"Natashen'ka…"

"Don't…" She put her fingers to his lips as he brought his face closer to hers. "Don't say it, please…" She whispered, almost so quietly that Prussia could hear her from the doorway. He healed in, trying to listen.

"Why not? I've said it before…" He slipped his hand from her hand to around her waist.

"I know… but…" She slid her hand to his shoulder, pulling it back as he winced. "Torshka, are you hurt?"

He shook his head, "It's nothing."

"My brother?" She looked away, biting back tears.

He nodded, "Isn't that why you scare him away?"

She nodded too, looking up at him. "If he's afraid of me… he won't hurt me." She sighed deeply. "It works." She shrugged, still not looking at Toris.

He lifted her chin, her eyes meeting his, "I'm all right. I've always been all right."

"Even when he gave you-"

"Yes. Even then."

"You were sick for weeks… I…" She looked down again.

"I survived, didn't I?" He looked around to see her face.

She nodded, looking up at him, "Yes. You did," she smiled.

He touched her cheek.

She brought her hand to his, resting against it, letting him rub her cheek, a few tears falling against his skin. She pulled his hand down, holding it. "You… you should go…"

"Without one dance?" He whispered back.

She nodded. "I can't risk it. If Ivan found out…" She shook her head.

"You wouldn't have to worry."

"You think I would let him kill you for this?"

Toris said nothing, "He wouldn't."

"I don't know that…" she sighed deeply, "Look, you… you should go."

"And the rest of your friends?"

"They won't come back tonight," she shook her head.

"Then you'll be alone?"

"Yes. By myself." She looked up at him.

"Are you sure?" He let his hand slid back to hers.

She nodded, sadly, "Da. I'm sure."

"All right." He lifted her hand to his lips and bowed.

She smiled, curtseying in return.

"Good night, Natashen'ka."

"Good night, Torshka."

He let of her hand, standing and walking out of the room.

Prussia watched as Belarus stood in the middle of the dance floor for a moment, before bursting into sobs, letting herself fall to her knees. He closed the door silently. He couldn't watch anymore. He was still stunned, trying to process everything he'd just seen.

 _She was dancing with a ghost?_ He shook his head. _Weird_. He walked back down the hallway, quietly, and down the stairs, picking up his book on his way down. He still had to get to the library before everyone else woke up.

…

Gil turned the last corner to get to the Library. To his surprise, the door was already opened. He walked in and froze. Russia was at his desk in the library, his head resting against it, a glass of clear liquid still in his hand. Prussia doubted it was water. Papers, books, and folders were scattered across the desk.

Slowly, Prussia took another step forward. "Russland?" he whispered. Russia didn't stir. He walked closer, all the way up to the desk. He glanced down. Two empty bottles of vodka sat near Russia's feet, and the glass in his hand was less than full. Prussia looked over the papers without touching them. They were all about the war with America. If it was a war.

Prussia looked down at him, "Russland?" He said, louder this time, trying to wake him.

Nothing.

Prussia dared to put his hand on Russia's shoulder, shaking him. It didn't work. He could see that Russia was breathing. He paused, thinking. He set down his book on the desk and used both hands to try and shake Russia awake. He wasn't quite sure why he didn't just ignore the giant country and leave, but somehow he felt pity for him.

Maybe that's what Liet meant when he said he couldn't hate him. Prussia sighed, finally managing to get a groan from Russia.

"W-what…what's?" Russia's voice was a low growl, barely conscious.

"Come on." Prussia put Russia's arm over his shoulder. "You fell asleep at your desk…" He still wasn't sure why he was helping him, "I'll help you get back to your room."

Russia nodded.

Prussia doubted he knew what was going on, or who was helping him. He lifted Russia carefully, his arms aching. "Can you walk at all?" He asked, trying to keep Russia awake.

Russia didn't answer, but his legs gave way, sending both of them crashing to the ground.

"Really?" Prussia rolled his eyes, standing, looking down at Russia. He looked to the door, and ran to it, looking out into the hallway. He smiled as he saw Lithuania walking down it.

"Toris. It's Russia, come help?" Prussia nodded him inside.

Lithuania ran in, following Prussia. They walked to Russia, both looking down at him, trying to figure out what to do.

"How often does this happen?" Prussia asked, confused.

"Usually only on special anniversaries," Lithuania sighed.

"Oh… that explains-" Prussia stopped, "That explains it." He nodded, catching himself. He looked at Lithuania, who gave him a confused glance, but quickly looked back at Russia.

"You grab one arm, I'll get the other," Lithuania sighed, reaching for Russia's right arm.

Prussia shrugged in agreement. He lifted Russia's left arm over his shoulder again, nodding to Lithuania as they both raised Russia to his feet as the giant country mumbled something incoherently.

"At least his room is nearby." Lithuania rolled his eyes, trying to hold onto Russia, who kept trying to fall back onto the floor.

Slowly, the two of them carried Russia back into his room and to his bed. Russia was completely unconscious by the time they got there.

Lithuania took off Russia's boots, setting them aside.

"There, that's fine, he'll wake up in a few hours." Lithuania turned towards the door.

"Wait," Prussia stopped him. "What about his scarf?"

"No!" Lithuania snapped then stopped, looking first at Gil, then back at Russia. "Go ahead," he said finally.

Prussia looked at him, confused, and walked up to Russia, lifting his head to unwrap the scarf. He stopped, looking back at Lithuania before lifting the fabric from Russia's neck. "Why did you say 'no'?" Prussia looked into his face.

"You'll find out," Lithuania said.

Prussia couldn't read his tone. He turned back to Russia, looking down at him, and lifted the scarf from his neck. He froze, closing his eyes with a deep sigh. He opened his eyes again, looking down at Russia's neck. It was covered in deep, ragged scars. Some of them looked thousands of years old, some of them looked almost new.

"W-what…?" he whispered.

Lithuania walked past him, to a small shelf in the room, taking a few bandages from it and walking up to Russia again. He knelt beside the bed, taking one of the cloths and starting to wrap it around Russia's neck.

Prussia hadn't moved, still staring at Russia's neck. "W-what happened?"

Lithuania sighed deeply, continuing to bandage the scars. "He did."

"What?"

"I told you, Prussia, there are a lot of things you don't know."

Prussia sighed, the sadness in Lithuania's voice was painful.

"How long have you known?"

"Since I caught him… adding one," Lithuania sighed.

"What? When?"

"It doesn't matter," Lithuania tucked the edge of the bandage in, and stood, turning to Prussia. "Don't tell anyone what you've seen, especially Russia. He knows I know, but no one else does. Now you do. Don't tell him or he'll make both of us regret it."

Prussia nodded, "I won't." He was starting to collect more secrets than he wanted.

"Good. Good night, Gil." Lithuania walked out of the room without another word.

Prussia followed, closing Russia's door behind him. He paused at it, watching Lithuania turn into his own room. He sighed, looking up and down the long hall. So many secrets. He thought back to the ballroom and the invisible figures Belarus danced with, the sounds of a party filling the room. He shook his head, walking to his room.

 _This house has too many secrets_ , he sighed.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter, yay! This one is both sweet and sad I think. We learned more about Lithuania, Belarus, and Russia! There's more to Russia than Gil first thought, and he's going to continue to learn. While I did say this is a non-pairing story... I'm sorry... I have a bit of a soft-spot for LietBela, so there you go... if you all hate it, I'm sorry. It won't feature too much into the story, but Lithuania liking her is canon! It's canon I tell you! (of course... my idea of Belarus is a little different... but she's a favorite character of mine, and I think she's too smart to just be crazy miss 'marrymemarryme' and nothing else. She's smart enough to know she needs her brother's protection, but if she can scare him, then he will leave her alone. This skill will come in handy later for her and several others. ;)

Belarus dances with ghosts. Any guesses as to which ghost? Also, in case you are wondering what Russia's house is... I've kinda moved the Winter's Palace from St. Petersburg to Moscow because I LOVE the idea of Russia living in that building. Also, it's one of my favorite historical buildings of all time, so describing it makes me happy. I suggest googling it. It's a museum now, and it's INCREDIBLE.

Of all the characters that have tried to kill themselves... It just makes SO MUCH sense to me for the one who tries the most often to be Ivan. This is absolutely where I think the scars on his neck come from. It's ridiculously sad, I know, but it makes sense to me. Russia is complicated, that's probably why he's my favorite character (tied with Prussia... I can't decide which one is my favorite of those two. They're tied. Followed by Liet, then Belarus)

Reviews are, as always, deeply appreciated! I love replying to you all! Thank you, Kattie for continuing to review, even though I can't reply! I'm glad you're enjoying it, and thanks for the virtual hugs and cookies! Sending more your way!


	13. Chapter 13: Choices

Chapter 13

Prussia rolled to his side, pulling the covers over his head, trying to ignore the knocking on his door. It didn't stop. He sighed, pulling the blanket down. He rolled his eyes, "I'll be right there…" He sighed, sitting up, dragging himself out of bed. He shivered, his sweatpants unable to keep him warm without the assistance of the covers. The knock was louder. He tried to shake himself awake, opening the door slowly. It was Russia.

He took a step back. "W-What do you want?" He straightened, looking into Russia's face.

Russia smiled, "I hear you have been healing well, Ptitska."

"I'm not your bird," Prussia snapped, regretting his words as Russia brought the back of his hand across his cheek. Prussia debated hitting him back but thought better of it. He didn't look at Russia. "What do you want?"

"We still need to discuss everything."

Prussia sighed, "Fine," he held out his arm to Russia so he would be easier to drag downstairs. He might as well get this over with.

Russia pushed his arm away, "Nyet, there's no need for that… unless it's your choice. We can sit and review this without violence, can't we?" Russia smiled.

Prussia looked up at him, shrugging. He opened his door, allowing Russia in. He grabbed his shirt and slipped it on, joining Russia at the table and chairs. He let Russia sit first.

"Now," Russia began, "I understand why you're upset about the wall, but-"

"Your soldiers are _killing_ my people!" Prussia slammed his fist on the table, standing.

"Calm down. We're discussing this, aren't we?" Russia smiled.

Prussia sat back down, fuming, "It's hard to 'discuss' things when your soldiers are killing people."

"Nyet, GDR, _your_ soldiers are killing people."

"What?" Prussia tried not to think about what that meant.

"Yes, GDR, the soldiers you trained… they're the ones guarding the wall."

Prussia shook his head, setting his jaw, debating whether to reply with his mouth or his fists.

"Anyway, I'm not here to talk about the guards. They aren't going to change."

"Then we have nothing more to talk about." Prussia stood again.

"I need you to understand, GDR. They aren't loyal to you anymore. They're trying to run away from you. It's better this way."

"Better!?" Prussia clenched his fists, holding himself back again, "You're going to have to explain that because as far as I know, you're slaughtering people, my people."

"Nyet, GDR. My people." Russia stood, taking a step closer to Prussia, "Remember, you _belong_ to me. Your people are _my_ people. But once they cross that wall, they're no one's."

"Yeah, because they're dead," Prussia looked into Russia's face, speaking through his teeth, ready to fight back.

"GDR, please," Russia sighed, rolling his eyes, "I don't want to have to hurt you. I don't like to," He looked down at Prussia's fists, "But if you're not capable of discussing this like a man, I'll have to treat you like a dog."

Prussia swung a punch towards Russia, not caring. Russia caught his wrist, spinning it so his arm was caught behind him, straining his shoulder. Prussia winced, trying to struggle free from Russia's iron grip.

"Please, GDR. Is this really necessary?" Russia's voice was impatient and annoyed, almost tired.

"I don't know, are you going to stop murdering my people."

"I can do whatever I want. They're my people, not yours." Russia kicked the back or Prussia's knee, sending the smaller country to the ground, letting got of his arm and grabbing a fistful of his hair, forcing his head back. "You seem to be forgetting this."

Prussia looked up at the giant country and smirked defiantly. He saw Russia sigh, frustrated.

"Honestly, GDR, you're making this difficult." Russia pulled his hand away, allowing Prussia to stand.

Prussia turned to face Russia again, ready for a good fight. He'd be ready this time, "Oh, am I?" he said sarcastically, smirking again.

"Yes, you are." Russia's voice was less than amused.

Prussia winced as Russia grabbed his left arm, half-dragging him back to the table, and forced him into the chair. He inhaled through his teeth as Russia slammed his arm onto the table, holding it there with his hand.

"Now," Russia said, annoyed, "Are you going to sit here on your own?"

"Or what? You'll tie me to the chair?" Prussia dared.

Russia sighed and pulled out his knife. He slammed the blade through Prussia's arm, pinning it to the table.

Prussia cried out in pain, bringing his right hand to his arm, trying to pull the knife out of his arm. He couldn't.

"When we're finished," Russia continued, sitting down opposite Prussia, "I'll help you with that. For now, let's hope it keeps you from doing anything stupid."

Prussia looked up at him, shaking with pain. It took all his self-control not to swear at Russia.

Russia smiled, looking at Prussia, "Now," Russia pulled out a stack of papers, sliding them towards Prussia, avoiding the blood already dripping from the table, "You'll need to look these over. I'm giving you a new boss, I don't like your old one."

Prussia tried to look at the papers, his vision blurry with pain. The statue of old Fritz had been torn down, and the City Palace was scheduled to be demolished. He looked back up at Russia. "You can't do this…"

"Prussia is dead, GDR. All symbols of it are being removed. You are the German Democratic Republic now, and your brother needs to realize this, as do you." Russia said calmly.

Prussia set his jaw, the words stung. He tried to keep reading, the knife in his arm was starting to really bother him. He closed his eyes, "You… you're removing the reunification clause?" His only chance of ever seeing his brother again.

"Yes. Didn't you expect that by now?"

Prussia closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded, "Yeah, I guess so." He nodded, biting back another gasp of pain. He finished reading the papers, his arm throbbing. "So…" the pain caught in his throat, "What… what do you want me to do… about this?" He tried to move his fingers, but it was more painful.

"I need you to sign these." Russia stood, bringing more papers to Prussia, holding them off the table, moving the other, now blood-soaked, papers away. He held out a pen to Prussia. "These say that you have read and agreed to everything in those documents." Russia nodded to them.

Prussia closed his eyes, then looked up at Russia, "And if I don't?"

Russia said nothing. He didn't need to.

Prussia gave a shaking exhale, glancing back at his arm. "I…" he whispered, "I'll need my hand." He grit his teeth.

Russia pulled the knife from his arm.

Prussia pulled his arm to himself, gripping it with his other hand, trying to stop the blood. He took off his shirt, wrapping it around his arm. At least the bone wasn't broken this time. He looked back up at Russia, who stood waiting with the papers. He reached forward, his fingers barely willing to hold the pen, and signed. He pushed the paper towards Russia, gripping his arm.

"Spasiba, Ptitska." Russia smiled, "You're learning."

Prussia looked up at him, standing.

Russia sighed, "Don't make this difficult, GDR."

Prussia smirked, "Difficult? Me?" Prussia folding his good hand into a fist.

Russia noticed, "Please. You signed the papers, you and I discussed your concerns with the wall, it's over, Ptitska."

"I. Am not. your. pet!" Prussia slammed his fist into Russia's face again, smiling with satisfaction as he saw Russia pull a bloody hand away from his nose.

"I take it back, GDR," Russia sighed, facing him, "You haven't learned."

Prussia smirked, "So, what are you going to do about it? Your 'lesson' last time didn't seem to work." He knew he was pushing it. He didn't care.

Russia grabbed his hair, kicking him to the ground, pulling him towards the door.

Prussia struggled, trying to stand again, bringing his good hand to his hair, trying to pry Russia's hand away from it. "I can walk!" He snapped, kicking at Russia's legs.

Russia dropped him to the ground. "Then walk."

Prussia stood, looking up at Russia. "Fine," he took a step towards the door.

Russia opened it and looked into the hallway with a smile. "Lithuania!" He called for him.

Lithuania almost ran out of his room and up to them, wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt.

Prussia looked at him, hiding the bloody tee-shirt wrapped around his arm. He knew Lithuania had already seen it by his expression.

"Yes, Mr. Russia?" Lithuania's voice was calm, despite his shaking hands, which he hid behind his back.

"GDR is making everything much harder than it needs to be," Russia sighed.

Lithuania glared at Prussia with a sigh, then back up at Russia, "Yes?"

"So, you're going to help me make him understand."

Lithuania shivered, "All right."

"Be downstairs in five minutes," Russia smiled.

Lithuania nodded, still trembling.

"Bring Latvia."

"No!" Gil grabbed onto Russia's arm. He felt Russia's hand on his face again.

"Do not speak to me like that." Russia snapped, "Now, does that mean you're ready to listen to me?"

Prussia looked up at Lithuania, who rolled his eyes, obviously frustrated by his stupidity. He considered it for a moment. He couldn't hurt Lithuania, or Latvia. Especially Latvia. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, pain driving through his body. He gasped, falling to his knees, clutching his chest, trying to breathe. He closed his eyes, trying to bite back a cry of pain as bullets tore through a child trying to cross the wall. He could hear him screaming in his head. He closed his eyes tighter, trying to block it out. He gasped again as the child stopped crying. He looked up at Russia, breathing hard, tears falling from his eyes, "I… will never… as long as I live… listen to you." He whispered.

Russia smiled, looking down at him, "You'll change your mind."

Prussia gasped as Russia grabbed his damaged arm, dragging him towards the door to the staircase.

"Bring Latvia," Russia snapped to Lithuania, who ran towards the little country's door.

 _No… no no no no no…_ Prussia struggled against Russia's grip as the door to the staircase was opened. Russia kicked him down the stairs. He groaned, rolling onto his side, his whole body aching. He looked down at his arms, they were soaking with blood, bruises already starting to show through his skin. His back stung, and he could feel blood starting to run down it. He gasped, struggling weakly as Russia grabbed his hair again, dragging him towards the black door. He kicked at Russia, knowing it wouldn't do any good. Russia pulled him into the room, kicking him towards the wall. He stood slowly, ready to fight back.

Russia sighed, pulling out his pipe. He swung at Prussia's legs.

Prussia managed to jump back in time, dodging the hit. He didn't avoid the next strike. It sent him to the ground, his leg bleeding through the sweatpants now. He looked up at Russia, who grabbed his hair again and dragged him to the wall. He struggled as his arms were bound behind his back. Russia tied his arms to a ring in the wall behind him, forcing him to kneel leaning forward. Russia knelt in front of him, pulling his chin up so he could look at his face.

"Now. You're going to stay here. And watch what happens when people disobey me."

Prussia's breathing grew heavier, and he could feel the blood soaking through the tee-shirt on his arm and dripping onto his legs. He struggled, trying to break free of the ropes. He looked to the door with a start as it opened. Lithuania and Latvia walked in, both of them were trembling, but Latvia was crying. Prussia glanced up at them, then away. He couldn't look at Latvia's face. Lithuania, he saw, was angry. He looked up again, watching as Russia grabbed Latvia's arm.

"Do you still need me, Mr. Russia?" Lithuania's voice was quiet, careful.

"Yes. Yes, you're staying," Russia said as he dragged Latvia to the corner.

Lithuania nodded, closing the door behind him.

Prussia struggled again as Russia took off his coat and scarf, revealing the turtleneck sweater he wore underneath. "Russia…" he whispered.

Russia looked back at him with a sigh, "You can stop this, anytime time you want."

"How?" Prussia whispered again, closing his eyes as Russia tore off Latvia's jacket and shirt, trying the boy, now kneeling, to the wall opposite him.

"Agree to become communist. Realize it's the best thing for you…" Russia went back to his coat, grabbing his pipe. Latvia whimpered, trying to press himself further into the wall, trying to get away. "Acknowledge that you'll never see your brother again, that you belong to me now. And agree that those who try to cross over the wall, deserve to die." Russia sighed, looking down at Latvia, then back at Prussia.

Prussia bit back tears, turning his face away. "I… I can't…" He whispered, closing his eyes.

Latvia screamed.

* * *

A/N: *sigh* Gil. You. Idiot. So... what do you all think? Is this going to finally break him? Do you think Liet's going to try and help him, or is he too mad at him?

Russia tried to be diplomatic about things... but sometimes his pipe handles the diplomacy better than his words. *wince*


	14. Chapter 14: Fight

Chapter 14

 _Young Ludwig screamed in pain, grabbing his leg, trying to stop the bleeding._

 _Gilbert ran out of the house to him. "What happened?" He could clearly see the bone through his little brother's skin. He touched it, causing another scream._

The pipe crashed against Latvia's back. Another scream.

 _"I was trying… to climb that tree…" Ludwig pointed a bloody finger towards it, shaking, crying._

Again. Another scream.

 _Gilbert looked up at the tree where a branch had broken towards the top. He looked back at his brother's leg. "Stop crying, be brave. We'll get this fixed up…" He looked back at the bone. "We're going to have to go to the hospital, but-" He tried to touch his brother's leg again, and Ludwig pulled away, crying in pain._

Again. Another scream.

 _"It's going to be all right. Big Brother's got you." Gilbert whispered as he lifted Ludwig up in his arms, trying to brace the broken leg, carrying him to the care._

Again. Another scream.

 _"Sh, sh, don't cry. I've got you." He kissed Ludwig's forehead as he set him in the car, laying down, as the boy gripped his legs, still crying, still screaming in pain._

Latvia screamed again, looking up at Russia, crying, begging him to stop.

Prussia looked away, trying to block out the sound. He looked up at Lithuania, who stood, eyes closed and hands clenched into fists, by the door. Their eyes met for a moment before Lithuania looked away.

"Stop…" Prussia whispered, wincing as he heard another cry from Latvia, "Please… please stop…" Another scream. "RUSSIA! Stop!" He looked up at Russia, trying not to let his eyes drift to Latvia's bleeding back. "Please…"

"So, you're ready to join me then?"

Prussia looked down, "You're killing my people… you can't… you can't really think I'm going to just…" Another strike against Latvia's ribs.

"Stop." Lithuania's voice broke Prussia's silence.

Prussia looked up at him as Lithuania took another step towards Russia.

"Let him go." Lithuania nodded to Latvia. "You and I both know he can't take as much as I can."

"You're volunteering to take his place?" Russia was surprised, amused even.

Lithuania nodded, looking back down at Latvia, who was shaking his head.

"No, Toris… don't…" Latvia's voice was choked with tears.

Lithuania looked up at Russia, his eyes flashing with rage, enough to even surprise Russia. "You really want to have fun? You really want to show Gil what you can do?" Lithuania stared into Russia's face.

Prussia watched, shocked. "Liet-"

"Shut up, Gil." Lithuania snapped without looking back at him.

There was silence as Russia studied Lithuania's face. He smiled. He nodded to Latvia.

Lithuania ran to the little blond and untied him. He put his hand on Latvia's cheek, "Go upstairs to Estonia and Hungary. They'll take care of you. Go. Now."

Latvia shook with pain, standing slowly. He grabbed his coat and ran out the door, glancing back at Lithuania, who had already turned to Russia.

Russia sighed, "I can't go easy on you, Myshka…"

"Then don't."

"This isn't yours to take," Russia shook his head.

"I don't care." Lithuania set his jaw, starting into Russia's face.

"I didn't think you had any fight left." Russia's voice grew cold.

Lithuania said nothing, looking back down at Prussia, almost angry at him.

Prussia looked down. He couldn't let Russia kill his people. He couldn't agree to that, or to communism. He couldn't do it. But he couldn't let Russia hurt Lithuania either. He bit back any words he wanted to say as Russia forced Lithuania to his knees, his back to Prussia. He watched as Russia grabbed the back of his shirt. Prussia shuddered.

Lithuania closed his eyes as Russia ripped off his shirt, pushing him forward so Prussia could see in the light. He didn't struggle.

Prussia stared, unable to take his eyes off Lithuania's back. It was covered in deep, ragged, angry scars. They were red and raised, pulling across his skin where they'd been stitched or left open. They stretched across his shoulders and ribs. Deep, jagged marks from Russia's pipe, and long, clean, precise strokes from a whip. He saw Lithuania was shaking, breathing hard, but he wasn't scared, he was angry.

"There," Russia nodded to Lithuania's back, "That's what happens when you don't obey me."

Prussia shook his head, furious, "Are you proud of that?" He still stared at Lithuania's back, unable to look away.

"Nyet." Russia shook his head, "Don't think I enjoyed a second of it. I hated it. All of it. But he deserved every mark, isn't that right, Myshka?"

Lithuania nodded, "Yes." He held back tears. He was too angry to cry.

Prussia looked up at Russia, "What are you?"

Russia sighed, "I don't like to hurt you. I'm trying to help you, both of you, understand that this is the best way. Please, Prussia, just agree to what the Soviet Union says, agree to communism, and I don't need to add any more scars," he motioned towards Lithuania's back.

Prussia closed his eyes, trying to force himself to answer. His thoughts were cut off as he heard metal crash against skin.

Lithuania didn't make a sound, only winced.

Prussia looked away again.

"Watch," Russia ordered, pulling his head up by his hair, leaving Latvia's blood dripping down the side of Russia's face. He let his pipe strike Lithuania's back again.

Prussia tried to force himself to watch, his mind swirling. He couldn't kill his own people, he couldn't. He couldn't join Russia and agree to be a communist. What about West?

Another strike. Still, Lithuania didn't make a sound, but Prussia could hear his breathing growing harder.

Prussia's chest burned, the feeling of bullets tearing through him. He couldn't breathe. It was another child, from the same family as earlier. They couldn't make it. They weren't going to make it. He couldn't do this to them. He couldn't. He had enough blood on his hands, no more… he couldn't be responsible for any more death. He looked back at Lithuania. So much blood. He winced as another blow struck Lithuania's ribs, this time hearing a soft grunt of pain from the dark-haired country.

"Russia…" Prussia shook his head, whispering the word.

"Are you ready to listen to me, GDR?" Russia paused, dropping his pipe for a moment.

Prussia bit back tears and shook his head. "I can't… I can't… please… please stop… do whatever you want to me, just please…"

"As you said, you didn't learn when I hurt you…" Russia smiled, seeing his tears, "But I think you will learn this way, da?" He took a hard swing at Lithuania's back.

Lithuania screamed, falling forward, shaking with pain. The pipe left a deep gash, hot blood dripped down his back. He felt lightheaded, pain tearing through his body. He breathed hard, gasping.

Prussia tried to block out the sound, looking away, eyes closed. Russia pulled his head up again.

"I said, 'watch'."

Prussia looked up at Russia, "Please…"

"You're the only one who can make this stop, GDR. Anytime you'd like. It wouldn't be hard, would it?" He struck Lithuania's back again, drawing another shriek of pain.

 _"How could not know what your boss was doing? How could you just look away? Why didn't you stop him? Why didn't you do anything? Do you know how many people's deaths you and your brother are responsible for?" Hungary was crying, her voice angry._

Another cry of pain.

 _"GET AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE!" Poland screamed, begging, crying. "PLEASE! STOP!" He sobbed, wrapping his arms around his head in self-protection._

Another scream.

 _"I take care of what is mine," Russia smiled.  
"I'm not your little bird!"  
"Don't you like your cage?"  
"You're killing my people!"  
"They're my people. You belong to me."_

Prussia tried to fight tears as Lithuania screamed in pain again, falling forward, trying to hold himself up.

 _"He was my best friend when we were kids, I would have done anything… anything to keep him safe, and when he needed me…" "You couldn't have protected him…" Gil shook his head. It was painful to say out loud. Torus turned to him again, "You would know, wouldn't you?"_

Another strike. Another scream. More blood.

 _"I own you, Ptitska."  
"I am not your bird!"_

Another scream.

 _"I choose the hard way"_

 _"Then I will have to break your wings…"_

Prussia looked up, his throughs interrupted by another cry of pain from Lithuania. He looked at the dark-haired country. His arms were shaking with pain, and Prussia could see he was having trouble staying conscious. He winced as Russia grabbed Lithuania's hair, turning him so Prussia could see his face. His mouth dripped with blood.

Prussia looked away, hearing Lithuania cough, more blood falling from his lips. He couldn't betray his people. He couldn't.

"Russia…" he whispered. "Please… please stop…" He looked up at Russia, pleading. He wasn't above begging, not now.

"So, GDR," Russia was out of breath, "Have you learned your lesson?" He still held Lithuania's hair, pulling his head up.

Prussia closed his eyes, looking down, fighting tears. "I…" He couldn't say it. He couldn't. "Ja." He set his jaw, tears spilling over his cheeks. He saw Lithuania close his eyes, though whether it was relief of disappointment he wasn't sure. He looked up at Russia, "I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want. Please… please stop…" He looked down again, closing his eyes, "Please...stop…"

Russia smiled, letting go of Lithuania's hair and turning to Prussia's bound wrists, untying them. He looked down at Prussia, completely calm, all traces of rage gone. "I'll be waiting upstairs to you, Ptitska. Bring Lithuania, Estonia and I will be waiting for him.

Prussia nodded, watching him leave. He ran to Lithuania as soon as the door closed behind Russia.

"Liet?" He touched his face, holding his head up, "Liet are you all right?"

Lithuania nodded, falling forward, unable to hold himself up anymore.

Prussia caught him, "I'll carry you…" He bit his lip, "Are you angry with me?"

Lithuania didn't answer his question. He opened his eyes, looking up into Prussia's face. "Welcome to the Soviet Union, GDR." He whispered, almost sarcastically.

"Liet…?" He saw the country wince in pain, struggling not to cry out again.

"Knock me out?" Lithuania looked up at him, pleading.

"Are you sure?"

Lithuania nodded. "Please…"

Prussia searched for and found, the pulse in Lithuania's neck. He pressed hard, closing it off until he felt the country's body go limp. He struggled to lift him, his own arm throbbing with pain, and still bleeding. He practically dragged him out of the door and looked up the stairs. He needed help.

"Belarus?" He called, hoping she would be in the kitchen. If she was, she just might hear him, "Natalya, please!" He called up to her. He saw the door open, slowly, and her blond hair peek out.

She screamed, running down the stairs, kneeling beside Lithuania. She touched his face. "Toris…" She whispered, looking up at Prussia, "What did you do?"

"I fought your brother and-"

She slapped him. He said nothing. He felt like he deserved it.

"Help me carry him upstairs?" Prussia whispered, keeping his head down.

She nodded, helping him lift Lithuania.

Together they carried him up the stairs, and towards his room. Estonia and Russia were already waiting for them. Russia seemed surprised to see his sister. They laid Lithuania on the bed, and Estonia pushed Prussia away without a word. He stepped back, watching as they both started cleaning the blood off Lithuania's back and sides. He stepped outside of the door, leaning against the wall. Belarus followed him. She stopped in front of him, looking down. She grabbed his arm, and pulled him away from Lithuania's door, into the corner of the hallway.

"Why did you call me to come and help?" She put her knife, which she seemed to pull from nowhere, to his neck, pressing him against the wall, her arm against his chest.

"I…" He wasn't sure how to answer her.

She pushed the knife closer into his neck, "How long?"

"How long… what?" He asked.

"How long have you known?" She glared at him.

"A few days," he confessed, trying to push her knife away from him.

She stopped, and closed her eyes for a moment, sighing, "You caught us dancing… didn't you?"

"Well, technically you refused to dance with him… so…" Prussia shrugged as Belarus pulled her knife away from his neck.

"Tell no one. Ever. If you do, I'll kill you myself, over and over, and over again, until you actually die. It may be hard to kill a country, but I know how."

He nodded. He believed her. "So you love him?"

She nodded back, with a sigh, "Yes… For a long time… I still do." She didn't know why she told him. "Don't. Tell. Anyone. Especially my brother!"

"I won't. I promise."

"Good," she nodded again, then looked down at his arm, wrapped in a blood-soaked tee shirt. "You need medical attention too."

"I can wait…" He looked towards Lithuania's door.

"I'll do it."

"Um… I'm not sure I… uh…"

She sighed, "Who do you think bandages Liet? Not Estonia. He doesn't want him to know about the scars. I suppose that'll change now…" She sighed.

"You did?"

She nodded, "Yes. Now, come with me, I'll take care of your arm."

He followed her, wincing as he heard another cry of pain from Lithuania's room.

* * *

A/N: So, as is historically accurate, Prussia has given up. He's become GDR. He's agreed to become Communist. We'll see how this goes, won't we?

Reviewers, as always, will be replied to (if possible) and given virtual hugs and cookies!


	15. Chapter 15: Disappointed

Chapter 15

Prussia couldn't sleep. He tried to close his eyes, tried to force his mind to keep quiet. He sat up, running his hands through his hair. His mind raced. He sighed, standing, and walked to his window, looking out into the long, deep night. He felt sick. He glanced back at his arm, still bandaged, but almost healed. He was getting stronger. It had been several days, and he hadn't left his room or spoken to anyone. He hadn't slept or eaten. It wasn't Russia's doing. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to eat. He couldn't face them, any of them, especially Latvia and Lithuania.

He sighed, watching the faint lights of the city flicker in the night. The stars shone above the mournful buildings, sparkling happily. Prussia turned away. He slumped into a chair at his table, tracing the knife mark with his fingers. The table had been stained red permanently. He hated it. He hated everything. He'd betrayed his people. He'd agreed to let them be killed in exchange for the back of someone who couldn't die. He closed his eyes. He would still fight. Quietly, carefully. He wouldn't let Russia hurt any of them again, but he would help his people. He would make it possible for them to get to West. He wasn't sure how, but he would find a way.

He turned, hearing a knock on the door. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was 5 am. He sighed, unsure if he wanted to answer. Another knock.

"G-G-Gil?"

"Latvia…" Prussia whispered, sighing. He stood, walking to the door. He had to face him. The boy could say whatever he wanted. He deserved it. He opened the door slowly, letting a stream of dim light through the dark room. Latvia stood behind the door, his blond hair messy. He wore a loose tee-shirt, blood-pricked bandages clearly visible on his shoulders, and sweat pants. Prussia forced himself to look at him, the boy's eyes turned to him, shining with tears.

Prussia nodded him inside and closed the door, encasing the room in only the dim starlight again.

"G-G-Gil… are you mad at me?" Latvia bit his lip, looking down, rubbing his hands together nervously.

"What?" Gil asked, stunned.

"I'm sorry I cried…. I'm sorry, I tried n-not to I really did, it just-"

"Shush." Gil knelt, looking into Latvia's face. "What are you talking about, I'm not mad at you."

"You haven't come to talk to me since… everything… and Liet won't talk to me, and Estonia won't talk to me, not that he ever talks to me, and Belarus is mad at Russia, and Ukraine is trying to get them to be friends again, and Hungary is scary and you're locked in here and you all hate me, and I'm really sorry…"

Prussia sighed, shaking his head. "No one hates you."

"I'm, I'm, I'm really, really s-s-sorry I cried." Latvia brushed his eyes with his wrist, biting his lip harder, trying not to cry.

"I'm not mad at you for crying. I'm not mad at you at all…" Prussia shook his head, trying not to look at the bandages on Latvia's shoulders. He sighed, touching Latvia's shoulders, gently. "Does it still hurt?"

Latvia nodded, "Not like Liet…"

"I haven't talked to him yet."

"You haven't talked to anyone, Gil." Latvia almost snapped.

Gil sighed, "I know. Does Liet hate me?"

Latvia bit his lip, "I don't know."

Prussia sighed, "He probably should. I should have given in to Russia sooner, I shouldn't have let him hurt you… I just…"

Latvia looked up at him, "He's not mad because you didn't give in sooner…"

"Why is he mad then?" Prussia wasn't sure if Latvia knew the answer, but he asked anyway.

"He's mad that you gave in at, at, at, at all, Gil! We're all mad you gave in! What are you d-doing! Russia's a monster, he's killing your people and you're just going to let him!?"

Gil took a step back, standing, shocked. He'd never seen Latvia angry before.

"You have no idea what he's done to me and my country! I may listen to him, but I hate him too! Why… why, why would you join him? Why would you agree to become c-c-com-c-communist? Why!?" Latvia slammed his weak fists against Prussia's chest.

Gil held Latvia's wrists. "Latvia… stop…" He looked away as the little country struggled against his grasp.

"Let go!" Latvia pulled his arms away, looking up at Gil, tears in his eyes.

Gil released Latvia's hands, looking down at the small country, who shook with anger.

"I hate it, Gil! I h-h-h-hate it!" Latvia brushed away tears again. "I hate it when he uses me! I know I'm small… I'm not as strong as you and Liet, but I hate it when he uses me!" He brought his wrist to his eyes again, trying to stop crying.

"Latvia…"

"You don't get it, Gil… you haven't been here long enough…" Latvia bit back the tears.

"What do you mean…?"

Latvia couldn't keep the tears back anymore. "Do you know how he broke Toris?"

Gil didn't answer. He didn't want Latvia to know about Lithuania's back.

Latvia looked up at him, sighing, "No, it wasn't giving him th-th-those scars. He thinks I don't know, but I, I, I, I do. I'm not stupid. I'm small, but I'm not stupid."

Gil sighed, looking down at the little blond, who's tears were streaming down his face.

"Gil…"

Prussia closed his eyes, sighing again.

Latvia looked up at him, "He used me."

"What?" Gil wasn't sure he understood.

"When he… when he broke Liet…" Latvia wiped away more tears, "He used me…"

It felt like someone had punched him. "He… what?"

"Just like he use-use-used Toris to get to you." Latvia looked away, "But Toris doesn't hate him. After everything, he doesn't hate him."

Gil shook his head, turning back to the table and chairs. He sat, putting his head in his hands, resting his elbows on the table. He heard Latvia slowly walk over and sit in the opposite chair.

"T-T-Toris says that Russia's bosses are cruel to him… that's why he's cruel to us…" Latvia looked down, "But I still hate him."

Prussia sighed, "You should be careful what you say, Latvia. The walls in this place have ears."

Latvia looked down, biting his lip. He looked up at Prussia after a long pause, "Gil?"

"Hm?" He kept his face in his hands, not looking up.

"N-n-n-now that y-y-y-you're on Russia's side…are-are-are you going to hurt us?"

Gil looked up at him. He'd never considered that side of joining Russia. "Nein," he shook his head, "Never, I couldn't-" He sighed, "I couldn't do that."

"What if he tries to make you?" Latvia trembled.

"I still wouldn't."

Latvia nodded, slowly. He stood, limping towards Prussia a little. He touched his bandaged arm. "Are you ok?"

Gil nodded, "You?"

Latvia smiled sadly, "Toris isn't the only one who's used to it…" He whispered.

Prussia closed his eyes, the words stung. He looked up into Latvia's big blue eyes again. "Do you need those changed?" He nodded to the bandages.

Latvia nodded, "Estonia can do it…" he was trembling again.

Prussia debated arguing with that, but he didn't want to see what was under the bandages. He wasn't sure he could live with it.

"I should go…" Latvia turned away from Prussia.

"Wait," Gil stood, turning to Latvia, putting his hands on the boy's arms gently, looking down into his face, "Are you sure you're all right?"

Latvia sighed, "None of us are 'all right', Gil. But I'm fine." He nodded, looking up into Prussia's face. He hugged him.

Prussia was surprised but hugged the little country back, very, very gently.

Latvia smiled up at him, walking out of the room without another word. He left the door open, light streaming into the dark room.

Gil sighed and went to close it. He stopped as a figure appeared in it, silhouetted by the light from the hall. Gil looked down.

"Hey, Priss."

Prussia sighed, then looked up at Lithuania, standing straight, pulling his arms behind his back. "All right, go ahead."

Lithuania shook his head, walking into the room and closing the door, "Go ahead with what, Gil?" he shook his head and went to sit on Prussia's bed.

Prussia looked at him over his shoulder and stepped closer. "You have every right to be angry with me after what I let you go-"

"I could have taken a hell of a lot more. You shouldn't have given up so easily." Lithuania shook his head, frustrated. He looked up at Prussia.

"I couldn't let him keep-"

"Since when did you get so-" He couldn't think of the right word.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe since I found out that I'm responsible for millions of deaths!? Maybe since seeing how absolutely terrified Poland is of me? Maybe since I effectively signed the death warrants for any of my people that try and get away from Russia? Maybe since-"

"Stop." Lithuania stood, looking into Prussia's face, "I get it. We all, get it. We've all done what we had to do to keep Russia happy, to keep him from hurting us more, but…" he shook his head, "I can't believe you actually…" he stopped, trying to calm down, "You need to talk to Poland."

"I thought you didn't want me to," Gil tried to sound angrier than he was.

"Yeah, that was before you decided to turn communist."

"Your country did."

Lithuania rolled his eyes, "Sure, my country did, but I didn't. You just did. I didn't go through the trouble of protecting Latvia just so you could give up so easily."

"I couldn't let him hurt you?"

"Do I look like I care!?"

"And how could you not? I heard you-"

"Yeah, it makes him go easier on you if you make noise. Not that I would expect your pride to be all right with that. I'm not stupid Gil, I knew what I was doing. I expected you to hold out longer!"

"I couldn't watch him do that to you! I couldn't! Not after Poland! I couldn't be responsible for that, I-"

"You weren't, I volunteered! And besides, I didn't do it for you."

"Latvia knows." Gil almost snapped.

"What, that I protected him? I know it annoys him, but-"

"He knows… about your scars."

"W…" Lithuania looked away, suddenly quiet, "…. How?" He whispered.

"He didn't say… just that he knows."

"So…" Lithuania sighed, "The one person who I actually cared about not knowing…"

"And I know Belarus knows. And I know you and Belarus-"

"Watch yourself, Gil." Lithuania looked up at him, standing, facing Prussia, "What do you know?"

"I saw you two upstairs." Gil shrugged, "I knew Belarus was creepy, but I didn't know she was 'dances with ghosts' creepy."

Gil jumped, taking a step back. He hadn't expected Lithuania to slap him.

"Sorry… but you deserved it."

Prussia nodded, "Yeah, probably." He shrugged, bringing his hand to his stinging cheek.

Lithuania sighed, sitting back on the bed. He looked out of the window as the sunrise started to dye the clouds bright orange. He glanced back at Prussia, who said nothing, only watched him, waiting for him to continue. He sighed again, "Belarus and I… we were married for a while. Our governments broke it off… very much like Austria and Hungary actually…" He looked down, "We don't … see each other much, not here. Not… now that we're both stuck with Russia. But sometimes… when it's late and everyone else is asleep… we go upstairs, and… we get to see each other…"

"And the ghosts?"

"There is so much you don't know, Gil, so much." Lithuania shook his head, "This house…" He looked around the room, "Every room in this house has a story… every back hallway, ever piece of wood and stone…" He sighed, closing his eyes, "Russia… Russia doesn't understand the difference between cruelty and teaching-"

"Yeah, I got that-"

"Because what he does to us... how do you think he learned? Do you think Peter 'the great' was kind to him?" Lithuania sighed.

"He made his country strong."

"Oh, yes, he certainly did that, by killing people." Lithuania half laughed, frustrated. "Peter was a monster. Worse than Russia. He tortured and killed his own son and guess who had to watch? Guess who got to deal with Peter's rage once he figured out that Ivan couldn't die?"

"So? We all have our dark sides, that doesn't forgive-"

"Forgive, no? But you've already forgiven him, haven't you? Or did you lie to Russia just to get him to stop hurting me? Because if you did, he'll make both of us regret it, and you won't be able to stop him this time. You really screwed this up, Gil. You're an idiot, sometimes."

"Like you're perfect!" Prussia crossed his arms indignantly.

"Perfect? No. But I have half a brain. I never… You'll find out. You joined Russia, you're a communist now, and everything that comes with it. He'll probably let your arm heal, then… then you'll join him. And if you think, that you're going to get out of helping him, you're wrong. He will make you."

"Yeah, no. I won't let him-"

"The first time he asks you to help him beat Poland, let me know, so I can stop you."

"W-w-I- what?"

"Oh, you thought he was just going leave you alone to do whatever you want?" Lithuania laughed darkly, "No. You're going to help him now. You're on his team. You're going to do whatever he asks you too. You belong to him, remember?"

"Watch it." Prussia snapped.

"Or what? You'll hit me?"

Prussia looked down, taking a step back. "Get out."

Lithuania sighed. "Gil…"

"I said, go."

"See?" Lithuania stood, turning to leave, "Just like Russia."

"I. Am nothing. Like. Russia." Gil turned to Lithuania, closing his hands into fists.

"I hope not. I really, really hope not."

* * *

A/N: Aaaaaand the plot thickens. Gil doesn't know as much as he thinks he does, and Lithuania is worried he's becoming like Russia... and Latvia actually got angry! (so did Liet, obviously). Gil's not doing so well at making friends at the moment. It's a good think Lithuania is pretty patient. But even Liet isn't too pleased with Prussia...

And... obviously, more Poland soon! (very soon... possibly next chapter soon!)


	16. Chapter 16: Perfection

Chapter 16

Soft light illuminated the room, casting shadows along the back wall. The sun was barely starting to peek over the horizon, and it would only stay in the sky a few hours. The infectious cold of the house seemed thicker, heavier. It had been three weeks since GDR had really spoken with anyone else in the house. Hungary hadn't said a word to him, Estonia was indifferent as always, and Ukraine just smiled at him, but only at dinner. Lithuania and Latvia seemed to actively avoid him, and Belarus just glared at him every time she saw him. He hadn't seen Poland in over a month. The only person he spoke to regularly was Russia.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror, looking over his uniform, his measuring rod resting on the table. He picked it up again and unlatched one of the pins. It was off center by a fifth of a millimeter. It bothered him.

"How long does it take you to get it perfect?" Russia smiled, standing in the doorway.

GDR smirked, "Perfect isn't possible."

Russia rolled his eyes, "You would say that."

Gil glanced back at him, his smirk growing, then turned to the mirror, repining the metal piece, this time in the right place. "You didn't have to come and get you know… unless you're here just to admire my uniform skills," he turned around, looking at Russia.

Russia laughed, "Nyet. But it is impressive," he smiled, "You realize it won't matter though… not for this."

"Oh, it matters." GDR smiled.

Russia shrugged, smiling in return. He walked up behind Gil. "That one's out of place," He pointed, quickly.

"Which one!?" Gil turned to the mirror again, grabbing his ruler.

Russia laughed, "It's fine, Ptitska."

Gil rolled his eyes, internally wincing. He still didn't like that nickname. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Despite what many people believe, I'm not incapable of making jokes." Russia shrugged, "Now, we must go. They're waiting."

GDR nodded, straightening his uniform again as Russia walked towards the door.

"It's fine, GDR!" Russia called back as he turned into the hallway.

Gil sighed, smirking again, turning away from the mirror and setting his ruler down. He followed Russia.

"G-G-G-Gil?"

GDR stopped, turning to see Latvia standing behind him. He sighed, looking down at the boy, "Ja?"

"W-w-w-why are you doing this?" Latvia trembled, "You… you you you look scary again…" Latvia looked down.

GDR sighed, trying to think of an answer.

"Is it because of me?" Latvia didn't look up.

Gil shook his head, "Nein… I just… I have too many people I need to protect," He nodded, "My people."

"Russia's people," Latvia snapped, still keeping his eyes down, unwilling to look up at Gil.

"Yes," GDR nodded, "People that belong to the Soviet Union. It's the best way to protect them."

"Unless they try to cross the wall…"

GDR raised his hand, then drew it back. A shiver went down his spine as Latvia looked up at him, his big blue eyes shining with tears.

"Do it," Latvia trembled, "Get it over with." Latvia bit his lip, looking away.

"Latvia…"

"Why are you doing this! Why!?" Latvia shook, with anger this time, his hands clenching into fists, "Why are you joining Russia? Wh-wh-why are you doing this to us!?" Tears streamed down his cheeks.

Gil looked away, "Because I have to. The Soviet Union is keeping my people alive. It's keeping me alive, Latvia please… please try to understand."

"I understand just fine," Latvia pushed past him, walking down the hall without another word.

GDR sighed, turning to the stairs, to find Lithuania waiting for him. The country's dark hair was pulled back, and he wore his usual uniform. His arms were crossed over his chest. He didn't look amused.

"Latvia's right, Gil. You don't have to do this. Why? Why are you doing this?"

"I told you. I'm protecting my people. Right now, communism is the best way to do that," he tried to push past Lithuania. This was a conversation he didn't want to have.

"You know what they're going to do to you… don't you?" Lithuania turned to look at him again, knowing Gil was trying to ignore him.

GDR winced, turning back to Lithuania, "Ja."

"And you still want to turn communist?"

"Ja," Gil straightened, looking at Lithuania, "It's what's best."

"For you?"

"I don't matter, as long as my people stay alive."

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing," GDR shook his head, "This is my choice."

Lithuania looked down with a sigh, then back up at Gil, "Fine. Your choice. But I'm not helping you. I'm not listening to you. I'm not going to fight for you."

"I wouldn't expect you too," Gil turned away again, going down the first few steps. He could hear Lithuania walk to the top of the stairs and stop.

"Latvia tried," Lithuania said simply, watching Gil stop.

"Tried what?" Gil didn't turn.

"He thinks this is all his fault. He said…" Lithuania sighed, "He said if he couldn't cry anymore, maybe you wouldn't do this."

Prussia closed his eyes, trying to hide the emotion that punched him in the chest, "Is he all right?"

"For now." Lithuania walked up to him, facing him on the step, "Gil. Please. Please don't do this."

GDR continued down the stairs without another word to Lithuania. He had nothing to say. He had to do this. He stopped at the kitchen and smiled. Hungary was making her favorite soup. He could smell it. He stepped inside. She didn't look at him.

"Liz?"

"What do you want, GDR?" She snapped without looking at him. She looked at her soup, stirring it gently with a long wooden spoon, trying to distract herself.

"Do you hate me?" He took another step closer to her.

"Yes, actually." She kept her eyes on the soup.

He walked up behind her, putting his arm around her waist slowly. "Are you sure?" He leaned closer to her.

She spun around, slapping him with the spoon she held as hard as she could, smiling when he barely caught himself from falling to the ground. "Yes, GDR, I'm sure. I hope you know what you're doing."

"Liz-"

"Get away from me…commie."

Gil winced. No one had called him that yet. He didn't want to get used to it.

"It's only until I can get back to Germany…" He whispered, trying to reassure her.

She didn't answer, hoping he told the truth. "Get out of my kitchen." She snapped, nodding towards her frying pan.

Gil winced again, he'd like to avoid it if possible. He stood, slowly. "I'm sorry, Liz."

"Get out." Her voice choked, though whether it was tears or anger he couldn't quite tell.

He straightened his uniform and walked out the open doorway. Russia waited for him at the top of the stairs.

"I'm very proud of you," Russia smiled, "You understand now. You did learn, I didn't think you would." He opened the door, leading down the long, stone staircase.

GDR glanced at the door to his old room and shivered. It was still too cold in the hallway, the stone damp and freezing. They walked down the dark hallway, to a conference room Gil hadn't known was there. Inside were Russia's bosses, and his own. They were serious, standing tall in their uniforms. He looked at their faces. They were all pleased with him. He tried to ignore the nagging turn in his stomach, and the ache in his chest. This was wrong. This was all wrong. He closed his eyes, trying to write off the discomfort as nerves. He had to do this. He would protect his people. He would protect himself. He would protect Latvia.

GDR tried to take in the room. It was large, made of stone like every room in that part of the house. A giant rug sat under a long conference table that was covered in stacks of paper, folders, and charts. Gil sighed. This was going to take a while. His boss motioned for him to sit, which he did. Everyone else placed themselves around the table in their respective chairs, all eyes on him.

"German Democratic Republic, I'm glad to see you finally understand the benefits of communism," Russia's boss didn't smile. GDR doubted he ever smiled, "We have many things to discuss, and many things for you to sign. Then, you will be granted the full privileges that come with being a satellite of the Soviet Union."

GDR nodded, "Let's get to it then."

"We will start with the wall…"

Gil closed his eyes.

…

His left hand ached almost as much as his head as he looked at the last paper. He'd signed too many things already. It was an agreement to allow the United Nations to recognize GDR as it's own country, separate from West Germany. He looked down at it, with a deep sigh. The final piece that would keep him from his brother. He glanced up at his boss, a man he barely knew, appointed by Russia and his government. The man nodded. GDR hadn't expected anything different. He signed the paper and handed it to Russia, who took it with a beaming smile.

"Welcome home, GDR."

Prussia closed his eyes, trying to shove down the pain in his stomach that only grew worse. "So…" He cleared his throat, steadying his voice, "Is that all?" He knew it wasn't. He just wanted to get it over with.

"Not quite." Russia shook his head, standing. He motioned for Gil to follow him.

GDR was led to a patch of stone, away from the carpet. He turned to Russia, who held out his hand. Gil shivered internally, carefully unbuttoning his jacket, draping it over Russia's arm. He pulled off his shirt, laying it over his jacket and set his jaw.

You can do this. Remember what Russia will do if you don't do this.

Russia nodded to the stone, "Turn around."

Gil obeyed, hearing Russia hand the jacket to one of the others. He felt Russia's gloved hand on his shoulder, pressing down gently.

"Kneel," Russia said, kindly. Gil could hear the smile in his voice.

He knelt on the stone, his back facing Russia, and took a deep breath, trying to ignore everything in his mind screaming at him not to do this.

 _"Why are you doing this! Why!?" Latvia shook, with anger this time, his hands clenching into fists, "Why are you joining Russia? Wh-wh-why are you doing this to us!?" Tears streamed down his cheeks._

Gil closed his eyes as Russia stepped directly behind him.

"Wait," Gil set his jaw, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "I want to do it."

"Really?" Russia smiled, pleased.

GDR nodded, "Yes. I should, shouldn't I?" He held out his hand.

Russia smiled again, placing the knife in GDR's hand.

Gil closed his fingers around the hilt. For a second he debated using it to fight everyone, to get out, but he forced the thought away. He brought his arm across his chest, aiming the blade at his back.

 _"You do what you have to do to stay alive. Just stay. alive."_

 _Ich leibe dich, bruder…_

He drove the knife into his back, gritting his teeth, trying not to let the pain show on his face. He moved the knife, then stopped, feeling Russia's hand on his.

"Other way," Russia smiled, resting his other hand on Gil's shoulder.

GDR nodded, letting Russia help guide his hand. Hot blood ran down his back as he tried to bit back any indication of pain, looking straight ahead. The knife tore through his skin. A long curve and a line. Another line, diagonal, slicing across the other. And one, deep carve. He let out a short gasp of pain as Russia twisted the knife before pressing his hand into Gil's back, pulling the knife from his skin.

Gil stretched his shoulders, ignoring the pain. He looked at his hand, bloody to the wrist. He winced as Russia pet his hair, leaving a bloody mark in the white strands.

"I'm so proud of you… comrade."

Gil closed his eyes and stood, nodding to Russia again, forcing himself to speak. "Thank you… comrade." He looked at his boss, and Russia's. Both were pleased, though neither smiled.

Russia smiled, putting his hand on Gil's uninjured shoulder, "You did well."

Gil closed his eyes, trying not think about it. He wished it had hurt more. He wished tears would find their way into his eyes. It was over, but he didn't feel any less sick. He felt worse. He heard their bosses leave, ignoring them, too wrapped in his own thoughts. He snapped to reality as Russia laid a cloth on his back, soaking up the blood. He didn't fight Russia's touch but shivered with cold.

"I'm almost done, GDR. Then you may have your jacket back."

GDR nodded, "Danke." He winced as he felt Russia apply something cool to the wounds.

"It will help," Russia said, kindly.

Gil nodded again.

"Your blood is beautiful… GDR."

Gil shivered. "W-what?"

"It is. All blood is beautiful, don't you think?"

GDR looked down, "I… suppose so."

"Your skin is so pale, it makes it stand out more, I like it."

Gil shuddered again. Russia's tone making it clear the giant country was unaware of how disturbing his words sounded. Gil only nodded, "Yeah," he said, wincing again as Russia laid a gauze over the wound, and started to wrap a bandage around his shoulder.

"It'll heal in a few days." Russia smiled, "Until then, rest. You've done well."

Gil stood as Russia taped the end of the bandage down. He noticed his shirt and jacket laying on a chair at the conference table. He slipped them both on, imperfectly. It bothered him, but he had no way to fix it.

"I'm ready to work now. What can I do?" He didn't want another few days to think about anything. Maybe working for Russia would keep the pain from overwhelming him.

"There is one thing…" Russia's voice grew colder, almost angry.

"What is it?" He didn't care as long as it was distracting. It could be anything.

"Poland."

Anything except Poland. Gil froze, not replying. "W-Why?" He dared to ask.

Russia smiled, "He's not afraid of me anymore. I need him to give me names. Names of people who are against me. He won't do it. He's not afraid of me. But he's afraid of you."

Gil swallowed hard, "I…"

 _"_ _The first time he asks you to help him beat Poland, let me know, so I can stop you." Lithuania glared at him._

"You do what I say… don't you?" Russia took a threatening step closer to Gil, his breath on the back of the smaller country's neck.

Gil shivered, nodding. "Ja."

"Khorosho." Russia smiled, patting Gil's good shoulder, "Then you'll do what I ask? You don't need to hurt him… unless it's necessary. Just get him to give me names."

Gil didn't respond. He shuddered as Russia stepped closer to him again, putting his hand on Gil's bandaged shoulder. He pressed his hand onto the fresh wound. Gil winced.

"You know what will happen if you don't… da?" Russia's voice was cold again.

Gil nodded, slowly, closing his eyes.

"Then you'll do it? I need your help."

Gil grit his teeth and nodded. "I'll talk to Poland."

"Khorosho. He's in the other room, you should go now." Russia smiled, turning to walk out of the room. Gil followed and watched Russia walk upstairs. He turned to the dark end of the hallway, and up to the black door. He closed his hand around the handle, slowly.

 _Poland struggled, screaming again, fighting Prussia, trying to press himself further into the corner. He scratched at Prussia's face and arms, crying with pain._

 _"GET AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE!" Poland screamed, begging, crying. "PLEASE! STOP!" He sobbed, wrapping his arms around his head in self-protection._

Gil forced himself to unlock the door.

 _"Please! Please stop it! PLEASE!" Poland covered the scar on his face, sobbing, "GET AWAY FROM ME!"_

He opened the door.

* * *

A/N: Well... that happened... Also, Poland chapter is next!

As always, reviewers are given virtual cookies (and cocoa!) and hugs! Thank you all so much for writing the reviews. I LOVE reading them!


	17. Chapter 17: Barbed-Wire

A/N: This chapter has all the warnings, including mentions of the Holocaust.

* * *

Chapter 17

Gil stood in the doorway, frozen. He couldn't take his eyes away from the thin, small, blond country pressed into the corner of the room. Poland's arms were bound from wrists to elbows in black chord. Loose pants were his only clothing, and they were caked with blood. Gil could see his spine poking through his back, his ribs clearly seen through his skin. He was shaking, his hands over his face as he turned away from the door. His blond hair, just brushing his shoulders, was dirty and matted.

"Please…" Poland whimpered, not looking up at Gil. "Please… don't hurt me again… I don't have any names… please…" he sobbed trying to press himself further into the stone wall.

"Feliks…" GDR took a step forward, then stopped. Poland brought his head up suddenly, looking into Gil's face with absolute terror in his big green eyes.

Poland shook with fear, staring up at Gil, holding up his arms slowly, turning his face away, trembling. "Please… Please…"

Gil watched, hiding his shaking hands in his pockets. He looked at Poland's body. It was covered in scars and fresh wounds. He turned away. He couldn't look at him. "I… I'm not…" Gil bit his lip, taking a deep breath, forcing himself to speak, "I'm not going to hurt you…"

"Liet said you would…" Poland's voice was shaky, almost a whisper.

"I won't." Gil shook his head, trying to get closer to him.

"NO! PLEASE!" Poland kicked at him, trying to press himself into the wall, covering his face.

"Ok," Gil held up his hands, "Ok." Gil took a step back.

Poland pulled his arms away from his face slowly, looking up at Gil. "Did Russia send you to kill me?"

Gil shuddered, Poland's voice was hopeful. "Nein."

Poland looked away, resting his head on the wall, letting his arms rest against his legs, carefully.

Gil closed his eyes with another shudder, swallowing hard as he saw Poland's arms more clearly. He wasn't tied with cord. He was tied with barbed wire. Gil felt sick. He looked back at Poland, who struggled to find a more comfortable position against the stone. "Can…" Gil stopped, wondering if he should continue. He looked into Poland's face as the blond looked up at him, trembling. "Can I at least take those off of you?" He nodded to the barbed wire that dug into Poland's arms.

Poland shook his head, pulling away. "No… No, you'll have to get too close…" he pressed further into the stone.

"All right. I won't… if you're sure."

Poland nodded, shaking, "W… what are you… why are you here?" Poland looked up at him.

Gil turned away. He couldn't look at Poland's eyes. "Russia… sent me." Gil breathed harder, trying to force down a catch of panic in his throat. "He wants me to get… names…" He bit his lip, looking back at Poland.

Poland rested his head on the wall again, shaking it, his voice breaking, "I don't know any… I don't have any… please… please tell him I don't know…"

"I don't know if he'll believe me…"

Poland looked up at him, tears streaming down his cheeks, "Then hurt me. Please… please if it'll make him stop…" Poland turned away, bringing his arms up to his face, resting his hands on his forehead, his elbows on his knees, his thin frame shaking with sobs.

Prussia took a step closer. "Feliks…"

Poland trembled more, shaking with terror as Gil stepped closer still. He breathed hard, gasping with sobs, trying not to panic.

"Poland…" Gil reached forward, unsure if Poland would let him touch him. He put his hand on Poland's.

Poland jumped, pulling away, pressing himself into the wall, sobbing, gasping for breath. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" His voice was a panicked whisper.

Gil pulled his hand away and looked at Poland. His stomach churned. He turned away, he couldn't keep looking at Poland.

"I'm… I'm so sorry…" he bit his lip.

"What?" Poland's voice still shook.

"I'm sorry for everything. For everything my country did to you, for everything the Soviet Union is doing to you… all of it, I…"

Poland looked up at him suddenly, still breathing hard.

Gil met Poland's eyes and shivered. He'd never seen them so angry before.

"Sorry?" Poland whispered, "You don't get to be sorry. You don't get to apologize for what you've done…" he choked back a sob, turning away again. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" He kicked at Gil.

Prussia fell back, almost scrambling to his feet, stepping away from Poland. "I'm sorry."

Poland looked up at him again, "Do you know what you did to me!?" His voice shook, this time with hate.

"No." Gil looked down, breathing hard, "No, I don't know what they did…" He shook his head. "I looked the other way. I didn't ask questions. I didn't want to know, I just-"

"Then you're going to listen."

"Poland…"

"NO! You're going to stand there and listen to it. All of it!" Poland shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Feliks… please… please just let me untie you… please." Gil's voice broke. He couldn't even look at Poland.

Poland looked down at his bleeding arms, and back up at Gil. He didn't want him to come any closer, but the barbed wire was painful, digging into his skin. "Ok…" He whispered, closing his yes.

Prussia walked forward, kneeling beside Poland again, sighing deeply as Poland winced. "I'm not going to hurt you." _Anymore._

Poland didn't reply, only held out his arms, trembling.

Prussia tired to find the end of the wire. He untangled the end, slowly, carefully, unwrapping the wire, trying not to touch Poland's skin at all. He stopped for a moment, noticing a faded tattoo on Poland's arm. "Feliks?"

Poland didn't need to look, knowing what Prussia had seen. "It's fading… finally…" He closed his eyes, tears falling down his cheeks. He wasn't scared, he wasn't angry.

Prussia shivered. Poland's eyes look dead, cold, distant somehow.

"Did you know?" Poland's voice trembled.

"Know what?" Prussia turned to Poland's arms again, untangling the rest of the barbed wire from his wrists, tossing it aside. He stood, taking a step back from Poland.

"Did you know about… the… camps?" Poland whispered, pulling his arms closer to his chest, rubbing them, trying to avoid the cuts from the wire.

Gil nodded, "Yes… they were for, political prisoners, POW's, criminals-"

"No, they weren't." Poland shook his head, closing his eyes. He pressed his hands over his ears suddenly, shaking, sobbing, gasping for breath, resting his head on his knees, pulling them tighter against his chest. "Please… please stop…" he whispered to himself, shaking.

Gil watched, breathing hard, closing his eyes. "Wh… Poland what happened?"

"They killed them, Gil!" Poland pulled his hands away from his ears, looking straight ahead, gasping sobs escaping his lips, "All of them… hundreds of them every. single. day…" He turned to look up at Gil, trembling, "I couldn't save them…" he sobbed, "And I… I couldn't… I couldn't die with them…" He shook his head again.

"Who…?" Gil didn't want to know, but he had to know.

"Jews," Poland looked up at him.

Gil closed his eyes. He'd known his boss hadn't liked Jews. He'd said they were a 'problem'. That he would 'deal with it'. Gil hadn't wanted to know. _Don't lie to yourself, Gil. You knew he was killing them._

"Almost 6 million of them…Men, women…children…" Poland looked down, his voiced choked by tears. He looked up again. "Do you know what your officers said… while they were destroying my people… burning towns, slaughtering children…?" Poland looked down.

Gil didn't answer, setting his jaw, trying not to cry. _6 million? No. That was too many. It couldn't have bene that many…_

"They said… 'when we're done… no one is left alive.'" Poland shook his head, "They weren't lying… 6 million…" Tears fell down Poland's cheeks. "They even took me…"

Gil turned to the wall, sliding down it, sitting on the stone, not looking at Poland.

"They gave me to you and your brother, and-"

"You don't have to-"

"And you two… you beat me for days…Germany's boot, crashing into my ribs until my lungs bled. And you." Poland looked away, "You didn't just use your boot…" he shook his head, turning away. "You-"

"I know what I did," GDR almost snapped, turning away.

"You used a wooden staff. Again, and again, and again. I begged you to stop! I said I'd tell you anything, and you didn't listen. You didn't care!"

Gil turned away, putting his head in his hands.

"Look at me!"

He obeyed, looking back at Poland, trying not to focus on the buses and scars on Poland's body.

"I begged you to stop… I screamed and cried and you… you didn't stop…" Poland turned, so Gil could see the deep scars on his ribs. "Remember this? You twisted barbed wire together, and…" Poland gasped, bringing his hands to his face, pressing into his skin, crying out in pain, breathing fast.

Gil turned away, closing his eyes. He wanted to leave, to go back to Russia and tell him he couldn't get Poland to talk, anything to get out. Anything.

"Then you just left…" Poland shook his head. You and Russia tore me apart…" He shivered, his voice breaking again. "But you… you were worse."

Gil put his head in his hand, still not looking at Poland.

"My government ran away to England… and they left me too… everyone left…" Poland pulled his hands away from his face, wrapping them around himself, "They didn't know what to do with me so… they didn't care. They took me away with… a hundred others…in a truck. When we got to the gate they said I was too small…They took me and everyone else they didn't want to a little room… and…" Poland gripped his arms tighter, trying to keep the sobs back long enough to talk, "I couldn't breathe…" He turned away, pressing his hands into his face again, sobbing until he coughed, gasping, "When I woke up… they were dead. Everyone. Everyone else…" Poland shook his head, looking away, trying to steady his voice, "They took me downstairs to one of your 'doctors'…" Poland's whole body shook, and he wrapped his arms around himself again, "And he killed me. Then when I woke up in a few hours he didn't it again," He looked straight ahead, gritting his teeth, "Over, and over, and over… every time trying something new… like I was a game… like he was playing with me… and I couldn't die… not permanently. I tried to figure out how… how to die, how to actually let him kill me… but I couldn't. He couldn't kill me… Just thousands of others… 200 people. Every day. That's how many people they killed… every day…" Poland sobbed, putting his hands over his ears again, shaking his head, trying to block out the screaming in his mind.

Gil closed his eyes, trying to hold back the panic that rose in his chest. He looked at Poland. He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak. He didn't have anything to say. He couldn't find the words. His people had done that. His boss had done that. And he didn't know. And he didn't stop them.

"They're only crime was being the 'wrong kind' of human…" Poland whispered, looking over to Gil with so much pain in his eyes that Gil had to look away. "I could feel every single one of them die… _every. single. one of them._ I hear them… screaming in my head… I can't sleep… every time I close my eyes I can see their faces…" He shook his head, pressing his hands against his eyes. "I hate you, Gil. I hate you. Don't you dare apologize to me…. not after what you've done…" Poland wrapped his fingers around the numbers on his arm. "Don't worry about Russia turning you into a monster… you already are." He turned away.

Gil stared forward at the stone wall in front of him, unable to look at Poland. He shook his head, closing his eyes, trying to think of words.

"Russia asked you to make me give you names….well I don't have any." Poland shook his head. "So, do it." He looked over at Gil again. "Make me scream and cry until he's satisfied…I don't care anymore." Poland turned away, pulling his knees in closer, wrapping his arms around them, and his head against his arms, looking away from Gil.

Gil stood, breathing hard, still too shocked to speak. He saw Poland wince as he took a step forward. "I…" He tried to find words. "I ca-" He walked through the door without another word, up the stairs, past the kitchen, down the long hallway. He passed Lithuania, who he ignored, noticing that the dark-haired country took off, heading to the basement. Gil ran into his room, closed the door, and locked it. He stood, pressing his back against the door, panting from running. He sunk to the ground, gasping for breath, pressing his face into his hands, trying for breathe. The pressure in his chest was overwhelming. He couldn't be responsible for all of that. He couldn't be. He gasped for breath. He knew Poland wasn't lying. He tried to steady his breath, but he couldn't. He panted harder, resting his face in his hands, trying to breathe against the crushing pressure on his chest. His jacket felt like it was suffocating him. He ripped it off, tossing it aside on the ground, and unbuttoned his shirt, trying to breathe. He brought his head up, looking around his room, his eyes resting on the full length mirror. He stood, walking to it, his breathing finally slowing down. He pulled off his shirt, and tore the bandage off his shoulder, turning to look at the wound. The hammer and sickle, carved into his skin. He pressed his fingers into the mark until it bled, dripping down his back. He wined in pain, but it didn't hurt enough. It wasn't distracting enough. He couldn't make it hurt enough.

He turned to the nightstand, opening the drawer where Estonia had left him some medicine for the pain while he was healing. He emptied the bottle into his mouth. He dragged himself onto his bed and closed his eyes.

 _What have I done? Oh God, what have I done?_

* * *

A/N: *heavy sigh* Well. The promised Poland Chapter. Please know, that I am jewish myself, and I have nothing but respect for those who suffered through the holocaust, and honor for those who died. I feel that these are topics that we must discuss so it never, ever, ever happens again. Therefore, I will talk about it. This was a hard chapter to write, but an important one. What happened in the real life country of Poland during WWII was horrific and terrible. As I mentioned in the story, 6 million polish were killed, most of them Jews. 90% of Poland's Jewish population was killed, and at least 1/8th of Polish citizens in general. Some estimates bring that number up to 1/6th of the people of the country. These numbers are unprecedented, and the treatment of the Polish people by the germans, remains to this day, one of the most horrible, complete examples of 'crimes against humanity'. It remains one of the darkest chapters of world history, something that I believe hasn't been touched in it's level of cruelty before or since, though horrible things are certainly still happening today. (but I won't get into modern day world politics.)

I can't imagine hearing this not affecting Gil horribly, so it does, as I'm sure you can see. Whether or not it's a deliberate suicide attempt, I don't think he even knows. He just needs the pain to stop, at least for a few hours. As I mentioned, the countries can't die permanently.

I listened to the theme from "Schindler's List" while writing this one. It helped. I cried. I promised myself I would work on this chapter until I made myself cry. I cried.

Reviews are appreciated as always. I know this was a hard chapter as always. This is, as I've said, a very dark, historically based story. I'm hoping I'll find a way to bring a lighter chapter into this soon, we all need it after this I think. *gives reviewers blankets, hugs, cocoa, cookies, and more hugs*


	18. Chapter 18: Laundry

Chapter 18

GDR opened his eyes, closing them again immediately in pain, the pressure on his chest overwhelming. His shoulder throbbed, and the sheets under his side were wet with blood. He felt Russia's hand on his shoulder.

"GDR?" Russia's voice was worried.

GDR didn't answer, just looked up at Russia.

Russia sighed, looking at the blood on the bed, "If I had known speaking to Poland would hurt you so much…"

"You wouldn't have cared," Prussia growled, rolling over, turning away from Russia. He winced as he felt Russia's fingers on the mark on his back.

"I would have. Poland isn't worth it, Gil." Russia traced the cut on Gil's shoulder, it was still open and bloody. It needed attention.

"How can you say that?" GDR shook his head, not looking at Russia. "Do you know what they did to him… what… I… did to him?"

Russia nodded, still inspecting the wound. "Yes. But you are atoning for your sins, are you not?"

"And how am I ever going to do that?" Gil whispered, pulling his hands to his face, biting back tears. He wouldn't cry in front of Russia.

"You were the knight, you tell me."

Prussia closed his eyes, "Blood."

Russia traced his fingers over the Soviet symbol. "Then you're free."

Gil shook his head, "Not from this. Never from this. Some things aren't forgivable…" He let the tears fall onto his pillow, hoping Russia wouldn't see them.

"I know," Russia whispered, turning away with a sigh. "You and I will always be the villains in their stories. You and I will always be the monsters they don't want," Russia smiled sadly.

Gil turned to him, not trying to hide the tears anymore, "And that's ok with you?"

Russia shrugged, "I guess it's just my part in history. I've accepted it, I suppose, but I do try. I wish they all knew I don't hate them…" Russia sighed, then smiled, "But I suppose they need a monster to fight."

"America?"

Russia nodded, "Da. America. I don't know why he can't realize that absolute equality is best. It keeps people safe. It protects them."

It cripples them. GDR pushed the thoughts away, "Are you afraid of war with America."

Russia sighed again, pausing. He nodded, slowly, "Da. But he is also afraid of me. And this, I think, will save us."

GDR nodded, "An advantage to being the monster."

Russia smiled, nodding, "And so, you understand."

GDR sighed, pulling himself, wincing. His heart pounding. He closed his eyes, pressing his hand into his chest, trying to steady his breathing. He looked at Russia, who sighed, glancing at the empty bottle of painkillers on the nightstand.

"I told you, I'm sorry. I didn't know talking to Poland would…"

"I'm fine," GDR lied, shaking his head, "I'll… I'll make myself be fine."

Russia nodded, "Good, I will need you strong."

GDR nodded back, wincing in pain, his arm giving under him, his shoulder burning.

"You need to have that taken care of."

GDR nodded again, inhaling through his teeth, "Yeah… probably… just… not Liet… I don't want to see him." He shook his head.

"I'll try to find someone else," Russia stood, glancing at the empty bottle again, "Are you sure you're all right?"

Gil nodded, his eyes darting to Russia's scarf for a moment before he caught himself. "Ja. I'm fine."

"Khorosho," Russia smiled, "I'll send someone up right away." He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Gil shivered, putting his hand on his shoulder, trying to press into the wound. He looked down at the bed. It was soaked in blood. It stuck to his sides, back, and arms. He sighed, standing, steadying himself on the headboard of the bed. He still felt sick. He walked into his bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He looked into the mirror, turning to look at his shoulder. The wounds were deep and angry. He winced again as his movement drew more blood. He touched the markings. The hammer and sickle, proof of his allegiance to Russia. He hated it, but he needed it. His chest ached like someone was tearing him apart. He needed the wall. It was keeping him alive. It was keeping his people safe… but he hated it, and everything about it. He didn't look at himself in the mirror, turning away, back to his bed. He ripped off the sheets, throwing them beside the door. He looked down, seeing his military jacket lying on the ground. He sighed, leaning down carefully to pick it up. He dusted it off, irritated with his treatment of it. He folded it carefully, and set it on the dresser. He would iron it later. He gasped suddenly, falling to his knees in pain as his shoulder burned from the movement of folding the jacket. He gripped it, closing his eyes as he felt blood drip down his back again. He looked up, hearing the door open.

Lithuania barely glanced at him, carrying a tray of medical supplies. He set the tray down on the bed. "Well? Are you going to come over here?" He said, not looking at GDR.

Gil sighed, standing, walking towards the bed. He sat down, facing away from Lithuania. He heard him sigh.

"So… you really did it." Lithuania's voice was disappointed.

GDR nodded, keeping his head down, "Ja. I had to."

Lithuania didn't reply, picking up a clean, wet cloth from the tray. "You're covered in blood you know."

Gil shrugged with his good shoulder, "I'll clean up later."

"Not with a new bandage on. Go shower," Lithuania glanced back at the bloody sheets, "I'll deal with that mess," he sighed.

Gil looked back at him, standing. "All right." He nodded, then stopped. _Is Poland ok?_ He kept his mouth shut, turning back into the bathroom attached to his room.

Lithuania watched him close the door, breathing a sigh of relief. He turned to the sheets, closing his eyes suddenly, his breath catching in his throat. He shook it off, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He'd cleaned his own blood out of his sheets so many times he'd lost count. He hadn't wanted any of the others to see what Russia had done to his back. Except for Belarus. He smiled. She knew, and she didn't care. One person, who didn't care. He picked up the sheets, rolling them over his arm, and opened the door.

 _Lithuania closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain as he heard a knock at the door. He didn't answer, hoping whoever it was would just leave, thinking he was asleep. He could feel the wounds on his back sticking to the sheets, now soaked with blood, and he could barely move. He didn't want to see anyone, or worse, for them to see him. He pulled the covers over his shoulder with a whimper of pain, trying to hide the damage Russia caused. He winced as the door opened._

 _"Torshka!" Belarus flew to his side, closing and locking the door behind her. She touched his shoulder through the blankets, staring at the blood that had soaked through the sheets, dripping on the floor. "What did he do to you?" She breathed hard, both angry and afraid._

 _"Nothing. Please… please go." He shook his head, pulling the blanket around his shoulders tighter._

 _"Let me see it," She shook her head, biting her lip, "Please…"_

 _He turned, looking at her. "I can't…"_

 _She didn't listen, pulling the blankets away from him._

 _He winced, wrapping his arms around himself looking away, closing his eyes, waiting to hear her scream._

 _Belarus gasped, covering her mouth with a shudder, "My… brother did this to you?" She shook her head, tears filling her eyes._

 _Lithuania nodded, slowly, breathing hard with pain, trying to hold back the choke that would betray him if he spoke._

 _"Let me help you," She stood. "I'll be right back." She left the room, returning in a few minutes carrying a clean cloth and bandages._

 _"Natashka you don't have to-"_

 _"Shush!" she shook her head, "Yes I do." She bit her lip again, "Can you sit up?"_

 _"I don't think so…" he winced as he tried to move his arm._

 _"I'll help you," she reached forward, helping him to sit on the edge of the bed, she turned to look into his face, her dress covered in blood… his blood._

 _Lithuania looked away, not wanting to see pity in her face. He sighed as he felt her hand touch his cheek gently, turning his face towards her own._

 _"Torshka… please… I'm all right. You know blood isn't new to me. Let me help you. Please." She pet his cheek gently, feeling him relax with her touch._

 _He nodded, closing his eyes._

 _She smiled, walking to the other side of the bed, kneeling behind him. She picked up a cloth and touched the wounds gently, dabbing away the blood with the cloth, trying to hold back tears._

 _He could hear them in her breath, "Are you sure you're all right?" He didn't know what his back looked like, but judging from what it felt like, it wasn't something he ever wanted her to see._

 _She nodded, "Yes. I'm all right." She swallowed hard, "Except for being angry with my brother," She shook her head, "I'll kill him for this…"_

 _"Don't." Lithuania shook his head._

 _"You're defending him?"_

 _Lithuania nodded, "Yes._

 _Belarus sighed, picking up one of the bandages. "All right." She started wrapping it around Lithuania's shoulders gently, carefully._

 _"Natashka?" Toris whispered as she finished bandaging the wounds._

 _"Yes?"_

 _"Do you miss me?"_

 _She replied with a kiss._

Lithuania smiled, tucking in the last corner of the new sheets on Prussia's bed. He sighed, walking to the bathroom door where he could still hear the water running. He knocked.

"You need clean clothes, don't you?"

"I thought you weren't helping me anymore?"

Lithuania rolled his eyes, turning to Prussia's dresser and grabbing the first pair of clean pants he saw. He opened the bathroom door, just barely enough to get is arm through, and set the pants on the counter, closing the door. He sighed as the water stopped, and turned back to the tray of medical supplies he'd brought. He glanced at the nightstand, noticing the empty pill bottle for the first time. He picked it up, reading it. He closed his eyes, sighing deeply. _Poland_. He looked back at the door of the bathroom as Gil walked out, wearing the clean sweatpants he'd given him, his blood-soaked military pants in his hand. Lithuania nodded for him to set them by the door.

GDR listened, dropping the clothes, walking back to his bed and sitting down. He sighed, turning his back to Lithuania again.

Lithuania picked up some of the ointment, slipping on a glove, applying it to the deep wound. He winced, how could Gil have done this to himself?

GDR sighed, biting his tongue. If Lithuania wanted to speak, he would reply, but he had nothing to say.

Lithuania kept working, the silence uncomfortable. He swallowed hard, "Poland… um… said you didn't hurt him…" Lithuania tried to find the words. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of how he'd found Poland after Gil had left. The memories he'd dragged up had been almost too much. He had wrapped the wire around his neck, pulling it as tightly as he could. Lithuania had stopped him, holding him while he sobbed, closing his hands over his ears, trying to block out the sounds Lithuania knew would take too long to fade away.

"Did you really think I would?" GDR said, almost coldly.

"I hoped you wouldn't."

"What he said…" Gil dared to ask, "Was it all true?"

Lithuania sighed, "All of it and more." He tried not to think about it.

"Will he be all right?"

"Yes. Someday…" I hope.

Gil nodded, wincing as Lithuania pressed against the wound.

"I'm sorry. This needs attention." Lithuania shook his head. _Was this really necessary, Russia?_

Gil nodded again, "Ja… it… wasn't…" He stopped, trying to decide how to word his thoughts, "I didn't want this. But I have to… I need to."

Lithuania sighed, "I know."

"Does that mean you forgive me?" Gil looked back over his shoulder, "Again?"

Lithuania sighed again, deeply, "Well… I guess you're probably going to need at least one sane friend in this place…"

"And Poland?"

"I forgive you, Gil, for everything you did to me in the past, and for going commie on me. But I can't forgive you for Poland. He has to do that, not me."

"And you said he won't, not ever."

Lithuania said nothing, "Well I forgive you. But don't push your luck. I still think you're an idiot."

"Me too." Gil shrugged with his good shoulder again. "Liet?"

"Mm?" Lithuania concentrated on the wound, taping it together as best he could. It was too late for stitches.

"Do you think I'm a monster?"

Lithuania paused for a moment, considering. "I think you've done monstrous things…" He sighed, "But what country hasn't? We have our dark sides. To some, we're villains, to others we're heroes, depending on who you ask, and when."

"What I did to Poland…" Gil shook his head, "Not even what I didn't know. I hurt him. I hurt him with my owns hands… and worse…" He closed his eyes, "I'm not proud of it."

"There. There's your answer." Lithuania picked up a bandage and started wrapping it around Prussia's shoulder.

"What?" Gil looked back at him, confused.

"Monsters are proud of their work. Monsters accept it as who they are. That's it. You're not a monster."

Gil looked away, sighing deeply, "I'm glad you don't think so." _I do._

* * *

A/N: A somewhat lighter chapter from the last one. Still a bit dark, but not as dark as before. Also some cute LietBela that's trying very hard to destroy the non-pairingness of this story. I know at least none of you reviewers have seemed to mind. I promise it won't be too big of a thing in the story. I just like really Lithuania having at least one piece of happiness in Russia's house. The one good thing about being here: he gets to see her every day. Even though they rarely speak to each other, unless they're alone. It's cute, ok!? And I needed some sweetness after yesterday's chapter! (*hugs Poland*)

Liet and GDR/Prussia are making up, which is good. But their friendship has certainly been strained. And it may be strained more...

Russia, in the beginning, is one of my favorite scenes in this story so far. His little speech I think sums him up rather nicely in many ways, as does Lithuania's accidental rebuttal to it in the end!

Reviewers will be given milk, cookies, and hugs, served by Latvia and Lithuania (of their own free will) :) (Though why they want to do what I ask them too, after all I put them through, I do not know...)


	19. Chapter 19: Coping Skills

Chapter 19

GDR leaned his elbows on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at the stack of papers still in front of him, and at the clock. It was 2 am. He turned back to the papers. His eyes felt heavy, his mind starting to blur, all the words on the pages were running together, and he could barely register sentences anymore. He brought his hands down the sides of his face, rubbing his temples. His head ached. His whole body ached. He felt sick. He looked at the papers again. There was no money. His people were trying, but Russia wasn't helping, at least, not helping enough. He debated going to ask him for help, but he couldn't swallow enough pride. He let his head rest in hands, trying to think, trying to plan. He closed his eyes, opening them immediately with a gasp. He didn't want to sleep. He wouldn't allow himself sleep. He stood slowly, leaning his hands on the desk, and took a deep breath, shaking his head, trying to clear the images in his mind. He straightened his belt, standing tall, and walking towards the door. He nearly ran into Russia.

"W-I-um…" He collected himself, "Russia." He nodded to him respectfully, "What are you doing here?"

Russia smiled, handing GDR the glass of clear liquid he held, "I thought you might need something to keep you awake."

Gil smirked, nodding again, "Danke." He paused, "Or should I say 'Spatsiba?'"

Russia grinned, "You're doing well. It's almost right."

Gil saw Russia's eyes drift to the stack of papers on the table, "It's been a long night I see?"

GDR nodded, walking back to the desk, setting down the glass, "Ja… a long night." He shook his head, "I feel like I've barely even started."

"Do you need any help with the papers?" Russia asked, almost kindly?

"Nein. I'm all right. I can finish on my own," GDR looked at him again, "What are you doing awake?"

"You're not the only one with too many politics to deal with?"

"America?"

"Mmm," Russia nodded.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes. There is actually," Russia smiled.

GDR smirked, "What is it?"

"I need you to go back to Berlin."

Prussia closed his eyes, opening them with a sigh, "What do you need me to do there?" He said, trying to keep emotion out of his tone.

"My military there isn't as strong as it was when you were commanding it. And, there's been… trouble in the city. I need you to take care of it."

"And by 'take care of it' you mean…?"

"Do I really need to explain?" Russia smiled.

GDR sighed, nodding, "Nein. I understand."

"Khorosho. Then we're on the same page, da?"

GDR nodded, "Are you sure you want me to take care of it? I'm a soldier, not…" he shook his head, "Also I'm not exactly inconspicuous now am I?" He pointed to his hair and skin half-jokingly.

Russia laughed, "That's true. But I don't want this to be quiet."

"Ah," Gil nodded, "You want to make an example."

Russia smiled again, "There. Now you understand. So. You'll do this?"

GDR nodded, "Of course. When do I leave?"

"In a few hours. The car will pick you up at 6. You should try to get some sleep."

GDR picked up the glass of vodka Russia had given him and poured it down his throat in one drink. He smirked at Russia, who gave him an impressed smile. "There. Now I can sleep."

Russia laughed again, putting his arm around Gil's shoulder as he turned to walk out of the room.

GDR winced, Russia's hand landing on the still healing wound he'd carved into his skin earlier that month.

Russia took his hand away, "Are you still in pain?"

GDR nodded, "Ja, but… it's nothing to worry about."

Russia sighed, "Take whatever medicine you need. I need you strong."

"Danke, Russland." GDR smiled. He and Russia walked together to the door, then Russia nodded a goodbye. Gil went straight for the medicine closet. He searched until he found several bottles of strong liquid painkillers and syringes. He slipped them into one of the small medical bags and carried the supplies up to his room.

GDR closed his door, leaning up against it for a moment. He was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. He needed to sleep. He closed his eyes again, opening them immediately as screams of pain rang in his ears, and faces flashed in front of him. He shook it off. He pulled off his shirt, and changed into sweatpants, leaving his military pants and tee-shirt neatly folded on his dresser. He walked to his bed and sat down, setting the medical bag beside him. He opened the drawer of the nightstand and took out a band, wrapping it around his arm, pulling it tight with his teeth. He reached into the medical bag and pulled out one of the bottles. He turned it in his fingers, looking at the clear liquid sloshing inside the glass. He read the back, looking for the dosage. He filled the syringe with an extra half-dose and turned back to his arm. He pulled the band tighter, rubbing and tapping at his arm, slipping the needle into it. He pressed the syringe slowly, closing his eyes with a deep sigh, the images invading his mind finally starting to fade.

He jumped awake as he heard a knock on the door. He looked at the clock. It was 5 am. He winced, pain shooting through his arm. He looked back to it. He'd fallen asleep with the needle still in his arm. A giant black bruise ran halfway to his wrist, and blood had dripped around his arm onto his sweatpants. It was caked and dry. He heard the knock again.

"Give me a minute!" He snapped, turning back to his arm. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the syringe, pulling the needle out of his arm with a inhale of pain. He grabbed a bandage from the nightstand drawer and threw the rest of the medicine and needles into it. He'd deal with it all later. He pressed a piece of gauze into his arm, wrapping the bandage around it tightly. He winced again. The band around his arm had left a very tender ring around his upper arm, though he couldn't see a visible bruise.

"Gil, you're going to be late." Lithuania's voice, muffled by the door, snapped Gil back to reality.

"I'm hurrying!" He snapped again, standing, running to his dresser, throwing on his tee-shirt, pants, and a jacket. He carefully packed his uniform into his always packed suitcase. He kept it ready just in case Russia sent him somewhere short notice. He tugged on his boots and ran to the door, dragging his suitcase behind him. He pulled it open, giving Lithuania a rushed grin.

"You look like a mess," Lithuania crossed his arms.

"Something's wrong with your pony-tail," Gil smirked, pulling a strand of Lithuania's hair out of the band, and continuing to walk down the hall.

"Hey!" Lithuania watched him leave, "Don't get yourself killed."

"By you?" Gil called back, trying to sound cheerful.

"Only if you do that again…" Lithuania rolled his eyes, pulling the elastic out of his hair and retying it to grab the strand Gil had yanked from it.

"No promises!" Gil laughed, walking down the stairs to the door. No one was there to say goodbye this time. He tried to tell himself he didn't care. He wouldn't be in Berlin for long. He felt a twist of fear deep in his stomach. He didn't like what Russia had ordered him to do, and he didn't want to see… it… again. It was almost physically painful to think about, he wasn't sure what it would feel like to actually stand next to it again. But he had to. He had to stand next to it, to look at it, to touch it. He handed his suitcase to the driver, who threw it in the trunk of the car while he slipped into the backseat.

…

Gil lifted his head from the window as the car slowed, crossing into the city. He'd fallen asleep. He winced. His arm throbbed with pain. He felt it though the fabric of his jacket. He'd tied the bandage too tight, his fingers going numb. He'd fix it once they were at the hotel. He looked out the window at the city again but turned away. He couldn't look at it. The City Palace was gone, his favorite church was gone, the theater was gone, half the city was gone… he didn't want to look at it, but he couldn't take his eyes away from it either. It was his city. His home. He looked at the people in the streets. They wore dark colors, looking away from the cars that passed, keeping their faces down. His eyes caught those of the same girl he'd seen on his last trip. Her eyes met his again. He hadn't quite noticed how beautiful she was before. He watched her look away, glancing back at him briefly, and slip into her house. He made note of where it was. They pulled into the hotel entrance, and he opened the door of the car, straightening his coat, walking to the front door. He smiled at the boy who ran out to grab his luggage.

"Herr Beilschmidt!" The boy's face glowed with excitement.

Gil put his hand on the boy's shoulder kindly, "Hallo."

"My mother and sisters and I are so grateful to you… Danke."

Gil nodded, "Don't worry about it," He smiled still, "Your mother and sisters, are they well?"

The boy nodded.

"Good." He was relieved. He didn't trust many of the soldiers in the city, especially the Soviet soldiers, not after what happened after the war.

The boy nodded to him again, motioning for him to follow him upstairs.

Gil walked behind the boy, and another attendant carried his suitcase behind him. When they reached his room, he motioned for the attendant to leave, giving him a few marks. He turned to the boy as the attendant left, motioning for him to come inside his room, pulling his luggage in himself. The boy nodded, a little hesitantly.

"Tell me about your family." Gil nodded to the boy kindly as he set his luggage on the bed, starting to unpack.

"Well… my mother is kind of old. Not very I guess though…" The boy's face grew confused.

Gil chuckled, nodding to the boy to continue.

"My sisters are Adelaide, and Gisella, and…" he stopped, looking down.

"What was her name?" Gil asked, turning to the boy, putting his hand on his shoulder kindly. "Don't forget her name. Don't let anyone forget her name," he nodded.

"Her name… was Bern."

Gil winced, setting his jaw, trying not to let the boy see the pain, thankful he wasn't looking at him. He forced his voice to steady, "Do you… know how she died?"

The boy shook his head, still looking down.

 _Good_. Gil tried to collect his thoughts, "You know…" he tried to continue speaking normally, "I don't think I caught your name…"

"Cort," he looked up at Gil again, smiling a little.

Gil forced a smile, nodding to him, trying to breathe as the pain finally started to subside, "That's a good name. Mine is Gilbert."

Cort looked into his face, worry writing itself on his eyes, "Are you… are you all right, Herr Beilschmidt?"

Gil nodded, the pain fading. "Yes. I'm fine. Sometimes… sometimes the memories of the war get… difficult."

Cort nodded back, looking down again, "Yeah… mama says the same thing… she cries a lot."

Gil sighed, reaching into his pocket again, slipping money into Cort's hand.

"I can't take any more… you don't have to-"

"Please. Take it. Your family could use it. Please." He smiled.

Cort put the money in his pocket, "Danke." He looked up at Prussia, his big eyes shining with tears.

"I would like to meet your family," Gil smiled. "Maybe, I could take you and your family to get dinner tonight. Would your mother be willing to meet me?"

Cort grinned, "Ja! Ja I think she would!" he beamed, "If… if you're sure." He tried to make himself look less excited than he was. Gil wondered if he'd ever been to a restaurant before. There weren't many of them in the city anymore, and they were expensive.

"Very sure," Gil smiled back, patting the boy's shoulder, "Now, you should get back to your work before I get you in trouble."

Cort nodded, looking up at Gil with a smile, "Danke again." He smiled. "I can come and get you after work today, and take to my family?"

"Go home first, ask them if they would like to meet me. Then come get me," Gil smiled kindly.

"Ok! Ok I will!"

"Tell them to wear good dresses, and you, wear good clothes too if you can. We will go to the best restaurant in the city." This side of the city.

"Ok." The boy nodded.

Gil caught something in his face as he nodded. _They have nothing to wear._ He realized. He said nothing. "Now, like I said, hurry along to work. I'll see you this evening," he smiled, turning back to his luggage.

Cort ran out of the room, almost skipping with joy.

Gil fell to his knees as soon as the door was closed, gripping his chest, breathing hard pressing his hand into his temple. He tried not to cry out in pain. He breathed hard, trying to force oxygen into his lungs. He would never tell Cort or his family how their sister died, never. He put his head in his hands, pushing his hair back, trying to focus his thoughts. He stood, slowly, catching his breath, panting. He looked at the door again with a sigh. Cort didn't remind him of his brother as much as Latvia did, but he had to help him. His family was fatherless, torn apart by the war and everything after. Gil couldn't sit back and do nothing. He'd done too much, he had to do this good thing. Finally, something he could do to start healing the wounds that had been left raw and bleeding when he joined Russia. Finally, a chance to redeem himself… maybe? He winced again, pulling off his jacket and shirt. He started to unwrap the bandage on his arm.

* * *

A/N: So... a lot of things happening in this chapter. This isn't the first time Prussia has used those painkillers to just stop feeling anything for a while... but more on that later. This is, in general, something of a lighter chapter. Still some dark spots, but also some hope. Some light for a change. Something good for Gil to do. (Besides annoying Liet. Come on Gil... really?)

So... apparently, I have OC's now. And also I guess Prussia has a soft spot for little kids that remind him of his baby brother. Cort is supposed to be quite a bit younger than Latvia though (I imagine Cort more like 11 or 12), and he doesn't look as much like young Germany. (I believe I said in the first chapter where we meet him that Cort has dark hair?) But Prussia still wants to help him. As far as his sister Bern... well... I was implying what I was implying. If you're up on your Cold War/post-WWII history, you know how Russian soldiers treated German women, (Not well that's how...). More to come on why Gil (and the others) can feel physical pain for some, and not others. That will be explained, though hopefully, it was clear that everything Poland told him is starting to seriously affect him.

I might not be able to update next week, as I will be gone, but I will try to get an update out tomorrow. Then I'm gone from Sunday to Sunday! O_O I will miss you all! but I will return with many more ideas! As I said, I think I can get a chapter up tomorrow though (Maybe two... no promises though).

Reviewers are given cookies and hugs! Thank you all for being so dedicated in your reviews! Kattie, since I can't reply to you, again, thank you so much for your reviews! I'm sorry some of the previous chapters have been traumatizing! *gives extra cookies* Thank you again to all reviewers! 3


	20. Chapter 20: Family

Chapter 20

Gil adjusted his uniform in the mirror of his hotel room. It was his dress uniform, and it looked good on him. He smiled, looking at himself, brushing a stray piece of hair back with his hand. He smiled. He almost looked like his brother, just paler. He glanced back at the packages on the table in his room, perfectly wrapped in brown paper. He smiled again as he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," He turned to the door to see Cort's grinning face looking up at him. "Well?"

"Mama and my sisters are excited!" He looked down, "But… um… they were wondering if… maybe we could just eat at my house…" He put his hands in his pockets. "We… we don't' have… nice things for going to a restaurant…" He whispered, keeping his eyes on the floor.

Gil put his hand on the boy's shoulder, "I know." He smiled kindly, "That's why…" He motioned to the packages on the table.

Cort stared at them. "You… you…" He looked up at Gil, shocked.

Gil nodded. "Now, if you'll help me carry them downstairs, we can go to my car. He's going to drive us to your house, all right?"

Cort nodded, still staring at the packages. He ran up to them and helped Gil carry them to the car.

Gil motioned for the boy to sit next to him, which Cort did after petting the seat.

"It's really soft…" Cort whispered.

Gil laughed, nodding, "Yes it is."

Cort gave the driver directions to his house, which to Gil's amusement was less than three blocks from the hotel. They could have walked, but seeing Cort's excitement at riding in the car was worth it. Gil looked out the window at the house, it was the same house he'd seen the beautiful girl walk into earlier that day. The car parked along the street and the driver picked up the packages, carrying them behind Cort and Gil.

Cort ran in the door excitedly, Gil following behind him.

"Mama! Mama, we're here!" Cort ran up to her, taking her hand and pulling her towards Gil.

Gil nodded politely to her. "Hallo." He smiled, standing straight. "You have a very good son." He glanced down at Cort.

"Danke, Herr Beilschmidt." The older woman nodded.

Gil noticed her hair was streaked with grey, and her eyes were tired, but wise. Her hands were older than her face, aged from hard work. She was thin. He smiled at her kindly, "Please, call me Gilbert."

She smiled back, "And I'm Margot. You are very, very kind, Gilbert."

He nodded politely. "Now, I have reservations for us at the best place in town-"

"Danke, Gilbert, but-"

"Please," He held up his hand kindly, "Please excuse my boldness, but…" He motioned for the driver to bring the packages closer, setting them on the table.

Gil smiled as he saw Margot's eyes widen with shock. "Please, accept these as my gift to you."

"We don't deserve-"

"Cort said that your husband was killed in the war and that you lost a daughter… this is the very least I could possibly do." He smiled, turning his head as movement caught his eye. He had to force his jaw closed as the same girl he'd seen outside walked through one of the doors in the house.

"Gilbert," Margot smiled, motioning towards the girl, "This is my oldest daughter, Adelaide."

Adelaide walked up to him, smiling and nodding politely. Her smile was kind and warm. She looked at him with giant brown eyes, brushing her thick brunette behind her ear. "You are most welcome here, Herr B-"

"Gilbert. Please," He took her hand, bringing it to his lips, smiling as she looked away with a slight blush.

"You are welcome to call me Adelaide… Gilbert." She smiled, looking up at him again, a spark in her eyes.

Gil stood straight again, releasing Adelaide's hand almost reluctantly. He smiled as a young girl, who looked to be in her early teens, ran into the room and up to Margot.

"And this is Gisela." Margot nodded, "My youngest daughter."

Gil smirked, amused as Gisela extended her hand to shake his. He shook her hand firmly.

"So, did you fight in the war?" Gisela asked, excited.

Gil laughed at her forwardness, nodding, "Ja. Ja, I did."

"Will you tell me about it?" The girl's eyes grew wide with excitement.

"Gisela!" Margot corrected, kindly but sternly. She looked up at Gil, "I apologize."

Gil smiled, "No need. I understand." He turned to Gisela, "Maybe during dinner, if it wouldn't upset your mother." He nodded to Margot kindly.

"Danke." Margot smiled, nodding to him in return, "Now children, Gilbert has brought us all gifts." She motioned towards the table.

Gisela ran up to the packages, squealing with delight, with Cort following close behind her, looking for which package had their name on it.

Adelaide waited for a moment, turning to Gil again, "Danke, Gilbert." She smiled, looking up at him, the spark still in her eyes.

Gil smirked, watching her walk to the table, hoping she'd be pleased with the dress. He'd guessed at sizes, having asked Cort the girl's ages while he was at the hotel earlier in the day. He could see it would fit her well. "There is one for you as well, of course, Margot." He nodded to her kindly, "I will wait outside while you all change for dinner. Our reservations are for half an hour from now. My car will take us to dinner if that's all right."

Margot nodded, "You are very kind."

"As I said, it's the least I can do." Gil nodded again, walking out the door. He leaned against the building with a deep sigh and a smirk. He tried not to think about Adelaide but found it both difficult and unpleasant. He lit a cigarette, hoping it would calm his mind. He'd just finished rubbing it into the sidewalk with his boot when the door of the house opened. Adelaide walked out first, and Gil offered her his arm. He looked at her. The dress fit her perfectly, it's soft green complimenting her slightly tan skin. His eyes fixed themselves along her collar bone, shoulder, and chest. A deep, twisted scar covered her, the memory of a horrible burn etched into her skin.

She noticed his glance, "When the city was…" She sighed deeply, "It happened during the war. It's healed now, and I barely notice it anymore."

Gil didn't believe her last sentence, but he nodded, "I'm so sorry," He shook his head with a sigh, "But I'm glad you survived."

She nodded, "As am I." She pushed her hair behind her ear again.

Gil noticed that the others had exited the house. He opened the door of the car for Adelaide first, then motioned for Gisela and Margot to join her, helping them into the car. He walked around the car with Cort, motioning for him to slide into the front seat, and Gil sat beside him, with Cort between him and the driver. Gil glanced back at the girls, "I hope it's not too uncomfortable." He smiled.

"Not at all," Margot smiled back.

They drove to the restaurant, and Gil tried to keep his eyes out the window. The destruction of the city was still painfully visible. He closed his eyes with a sigh as the wall became visible in the distance. He turned away. He couldn't look at it. He glanced back at the girls with a smile, then forward again, trying hard not to look out the window.

"What will we do when we get to the restaurant?" Cort asked, looking up at Gil.

Gil smiled at him, "Well, we'll go inside and they'll take us to our seats, ask us what we want to drink…"

"I'm too young to drink."

Gil chuckled, "Then you can ask for water or milk." He smirked.

"I'm not that little."

Gil laughed, grinning, "No," he smiled, "Not that little." He heard Gisela trying to stifle her own laughter behind him. "You look very nice, Cort." Gil smiled, motioning to Cort's navy colored suit.

Cort beamed, "It's perfect. Danke."

Gil nodded, looking forward out of the window, the wall out of view. They pulled to the door of the parking lot and Gil got out of the car, opening the door for Adelaide again, offering her his arm. They walked into the restaurant.

…

The dim streetlights lit the sidewalk in the darkness as the car parked at the door of Cort's family's house. Gil again opened Adelaide's door first, offering her his arm, helping her out of the car. He helped Margot out next, followed by Gisela, who almost pouted.

"What's wrong?" He asked her kindly.

"You didn't tell me any war stories." Gisela looked up at him, annoyed.

"Maybe some other time," he nodded to her.

Gisela sighed, frustrated, walking into the house as her mother opened the door, Cort following close behind her.

Gil turned to Adelaide, "I had a very good time," he smiled.

"So did I.. Gilbert," She looked up at him.

"I'll in the city for a while… may I see you again?"

"If you'd like…" She pushed her hair behind her ear again.

He smirked, taking her hand again, pulling it towards his lips.

Shots rang out across the city.

Gil fell to his knees, clutching his chest, gasping for breath suddenly, his whole body shaking with pain. He pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to think, trying to breathe. He coughed, quickly bringing his hand to his mouth to hide the blood he could taste.

Adelaide knelt next to him immediately, putting her arm over his shoulders, her other hand on his upper arm. "Gilbert?" Her voice was worried, almost panicked, "Mother!" She looked up towards the door.

Margot rushed out of the door and ran next to them, kneeling next to Gil. She looked up at Gil's driver, who had stepped out of the car. "Please, go get help!"

"Nein…" Gil shook his head, trying to swallow back the blood, crying out in pain again as another shot tore through the night. He pressed his hand over his mouth, choking on the blood that insisted on rising to his mouth. He coughed hard, trying to keep it down.

"Don't… it's all right," Margot's voice was reassuring and kind.

"I… I should… get back…"

More gunfire.

Gil felt Margot and Adelaide's arms around him as he almost fell forward. He coughed hard, letting the blood drip from his mouth onto the cement. He brought his hand to his forehead, breathing hard, pain tearing through him. He winced again as a final shot hit the body lying on the death strip, ending the pain for both of them. He looked up, panting, exhausted.

"Please… come inside," Adelaide, whispered, looking to her mother, who nodded.

Gil was too weak to argue. He let the two girls help him up, and practically drag him into the house. He steadied himself at their table, before collapsing into a chair. He looked at his hand, it was bloody. He glanced at the wooden table where he'd left a bloody print. He sighed, shaking his head, still almost gasping for breath. "I'm… sorry…" He whispered, swallowing hard.

"No, please, it's all right," Margot reassured, reaching for a cloth, wiping the blood from the table.

Adelaide brought another wet cloth to Gil, holding it out to him, her hands trembling.

He took it, wiping his hands and his face. "Danke…" he whispered, still shaking himself. He looked up at Adelaide. She didn't look as upset as he'd expected her too. _She's seen too much of war for that_ , he told himself. He glanced back at Margot. "I should go…" He tried to stand, almost falling again before Adelaide caught him, helping him back into the chair.

"You're staying here at least until you can stand," Adelaide's voice was firm.

Gil nodded, too weak to argue, he leaned against the table, resting his head in his hand. He glanced over at Cort, who stood at the very back of the room, shocked.

"Are… are you all right?" The boy whispered, terrified.

Gil nodded, his breathing finally slowing to an almost normal pace. His heart still pounded, and his body ached. "I'm fine. Just…" He didn't know how to explain, so he said nothing.

"What happened?" Adelaide asked, bringing a glass of water to Gil, setting it down beside him. She nodded to her mother who went to change into her working clothes again.

"Never mind…" Gil took a drink of the water. It didn't help.

"You were coughing blood… you… you collapsed! How can you say you're all right?" She put her hand on his, looking into his face, fear in her own.

Gil sighed, "I… Just… old war injuries."

"Old war injuries?" she repeated, unconvinced.

He nodded, "Yeah. That's all."

"I don't believe you."

He sighed. This wasn't how he'd planned the evening to end. "I'm all right. I promise," he looked up at her.

She bit her lip, looking into his face. She nodded, "All right, "I'll believe you…" She said reluctantly.

"Danke." He took another drink of the water, trying to steady his hands. He looked back up at Margot as she reentered the room, "Danke. It seems I'm the one who owes you thanks now."

She shook her head, "After all you've done? Please, this is only common kindness." She put her hand on Adelaide's shoulder, "Adelaide, go change, I'll wait here with Gilbert."

Adelaide nodded, "Yes, Mama," she stood, walking into her room, glancing back at Gil before she closed the door.

"So, GDR, were you going to tell me?"

Gil looked up at her, stunned, too shocked to speak.

"Some of us still know that you and the others exist," she smiled.

Gil sighed, looking away again. He had nothing to say.

"What happened out there?" She whispered, putting her hand on his shoulder.

He wasn't sure how much he wanted to tell her. He looked up into her face. He would trust her. He had to trust someone. "The wall. Whenever they kill someone… I can feel it."

"That's horrible. Does this always happen?"

Gil shook his head, "No. Countries can only feel their people dying if they know it's happening… and sometimes after it does if they find out…" He winced again, trying to get Poland's words out of his head, "Some… of us have to deal with more than others. It's worse in the city. I'm closer to them…" he sighed.

"So, they killed someone tonight?" Margot's voice was low, worried.

Gil nodded, "Three, actually."

Margot sighed, "Do you know who they were?"

Gil shook his head. "No. I just… know how they died."

"Please… tell me it was at least quick?"

He heard tears in her voice, "You… you knew them?" he whispered back.

She nodded, "Yes. I did. I prayed they would make it across… but…" she didn't say anything more. "Are you all right?"

He nodded again, "I will be, ja." He sighed, resting his forehead against his hand again, "Please… don't tell anyone who I am?"

"Even Adelaide? I'm not blind you know," She smiled again, knowingly.

Gil smirked, then sighed, rubbing his eyes, "Fine. I don't care who knows. You can tell Adelaide…" he sighed, this was absolutely not how he'd planned this evening to end.

"Tell me what?" Adelaide said, walking into the room, back into her working dress.

"Gil?" Margot turned to him, motioning for him to speak.

He sighed deeply, "Well…"

* * *

A/N: Well... that could have gone better... but it also could have gone worse. Poor Gil. Also yeah... in case it wasn't obvious. He likes Adelaide. We'll see how that goes later on. (It will be interesting I can tell you that. I'm still calling this a non-pairing fic, for a reason though... *hints all the hints*)

This will almost assuredly be my last update for about a week, as I will be on vacation! I will return after that with more updates however! I already know where everythign is going, and I'm super excited about it! It's going to be REALLY hard not writing every day! *cries*

Reviewers will be given hugs, cookies, and more cookies! Thank you Kattie! I'm glad you liked the chapter! Also, Prussia himself rewviewing! Danke. ;) I'm glad you think it's awesome. ;) Thanks to all the regular reviewers! You guys rock!


	21. Chapter 21: Knowledge

Chapter 21

"So… you're a… country. An immortal country." Adelaide stared, trying to process everything she'd just heard. "You can't die, you don't age, and you feel pain every time you know one of your people is dying?"

Gil nodded, "That sounds about right."

"So… how old are you?"

"600 and…something." Gil shrugged.

Adelaide was silent for a moment, just staring at Gil. She glanced at her mother, who's eyes were fixed on the white-haired country.

Gil stood, clearing his throat and straightening his uniform, "I believe I have overstayed my welcome." He nodded politely to both Margot, then Adelaide, "I'll leave your family in peace." He stepped towards the door.

"Wait!" Adelaide took a step towards him.

He turned to look into her face. Her brown eyes didn't look angry. He was relieved at that.

Adelaide was silent again, looking down. She walked up to Gil slowly, then looked up at him, "Why didn't you tell me right away?" Her voice was stern, though still not angry.

"Because…" he wasn't sure how to answer without getting himself into more trouble, "Look, sometimes it can be dangerous to know your country," he sighed.

"I'm not scared," She whispered, that spark still in her eyes.

Gil smirked, then looked up at Margot with a deep breath, "Danke, for your kindness," He nodded to her politely, "But I should get back to the hotel. Perhaps, you would be willing to join me for lunch tomorrow?"

Margot smiled, her eyes full of understanding, "Yes, we would like that."

"Maybe I'll even tell Gisela a few war stories," Gil smiled.

Margot nodded, walking up behind Adelaide, taking her hand, "Yes, perhaps so."

Gil glanced back at Adelaide, then at Margot. He sighed, "I'm sorry… about your friends tonight." He looked away. He felt almost sick with guilt. "I've tried everything I can…" He shook his head, "There's nothing I can do."

"You're the country. Aren't you in charge?" Adelaide's voice was sharper, upset.

Gil shook his head, "No. No, we still have to listen to our governments. Russia picked my boss, not me, but I still have to listen to him." He sighed deeply, "I've done everything I can." He wasn't sure if he was lying, but it felt like it. "I'm sorry. Please… don't try and cross the wall. I can't protect you if you try and cross the wall."

Margot looked into his face, and nodded slowly, "Thank you for trying."

Gil sighed, setting his jaw, frustrated with his own inability to do anything about what was happening, "I'll keep trying," he said, wondering if it was a promise he would be able to keep.

"Danke, Gilbert," Margot smiled softly. "Now, as you said, it's very late. Cort and Gisela need their sleep, as do the rest of us. We will see you tomorrow for lunch," she nodded, "Are we meeting you at the hotel?"

Gil nodded back, "Ja, that would be perfect. I will have lunch made ready for us there." He glanced back at Adelaide, trying to keep his eyes up to her face. He took her hand, kissing it slowly, looking up with a smile as her cheeks flushed, "Until tomorrow, Fraulein," he smirked.

"Until tomorrow, Gilbert," she almost whispered, gently drawing her hand back.

Gil straightened, adjusting his uniform, and nodded to Adelaide first, then Margot. "Good night." He turned and walked out of the house, and leaned up against the building again, taking a deep breath and shaking his head with a smirk. Adelaide's boldness surprised him. He sighed again, still smiling, and walked up to the car, nodding to the driver.

…

"You got to fly a plane?" Gisela's eyes were wide as she leaned in across the table to listen to Gil.

Gil nodded, holding back a laugh, noticing Adelaide doing the same beside him. "Yes, I've flown several. Though I've never been the best at it… I'm better on my feet, on solid ground. Or on a horse." He smiled. He'd had more than a few good battles on horseback.

"Wow…" Gisela sighed, starting at him. She took another bite of her salad and started to speak before her mother gave her a correcting look. She swallowed the bite, and continued, "Papa was a pilot," She said, continuing to eat, "He flew all over during the war."

Gil smiled, "I'm sure he was a good pilot."

Gisela sighed, setting down her fork for a moment, looking down, "But he died…" she shook her head, "His plane got…" she didn't continue, her voice getting so quiet it was hard to hear.

Gil tried to think of what to say. "Even the best get shot down sometimes. It doesn't mean he wasn't a great pilot." Gil nodded to her, smiling as she looked up at him.

"Are you sure?" She almost whispered.

Gil nodded again, "Yeah, I'm sure."

Gisela was satisfied and turned back to her food. Gil glanced at Margot, who smiled gratefully.

There was silence for a while as everyone continued to enjoy their lunch, except Cort. He'd barely touched his food, pushing it around his plate with his fork.

"What's wrong?" Gil asked kindly, looking at the boy, who sat to his left.

"I don't know…" Cort shook his head.

"Come on, you can tell me." Gil turned towards him slightly.

Cort shook his head, continuing to pick at his food.

"Cort, why don't you answer, Gilbert?" Margot asked coaxingly, almost correcting.

Cort looked up at Gil, "Promise you won't get mad?"

Gil nodded, smiling kindly.

Cort sighed, "I don't like war."

Gil sighed back, ready to respond, but waiting for Cort to continue.

"People die. People go away and don't come back. People get hurt… houses get destroyed… I don't like it. It hurts people. It hurts everything…" Cort shook his head, looking down.

Gil sighed deeply again, looking back at Margot, who's eyes had filled with tears. He turned to Cort again, "I don't like war either," he shook his head, "I like fighting. I love a good fight," he smirked, "I love training Soldiers. I love being a soldier…" he paused, trying to think of the right words, "But war…" he shook his head, "War does destroy everything," he nodded, putting his hand on Cort's shoulder, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the war, and your father. You can blame me if you want, but I am sorry." Gil closed his eyes suddenly, wincing internally, images flashing in his head. Soldiers screaming in pain, women being carried away by Soviet soldiers, people running, soldiers dying, people being trucked away, being killed, being kept in conditions no human should ever face. They should blame him. They should all blame him. He opened his eyes, looking into Cort's face.

"Are you all right?" Cort whispered, looking up at him.

Gil nodded, forcing himself to smile, a deep ache in his stomach and chest distracting him from anything except guilt. "Ja." He nodded again, "I'm fine. Just… war sometimes leaves… um…" He tried to find the words.

"Memories," Adelaide whispered, looking up at Gil, her eyes full of so much pain it almost scared him.

Gil nodded to her, "Ja. Memories." He still felt sick.

The rest of the meal was quiet, almost too quiet. Cort finally managed to eat most of his food, Gisela barely spoke again, and Gil tried half-heartedly to keep his eyes off Adelaide. He knew Margot had noticed, but she hadn't said anything, which he took as her approval. Once the meal was finished, he took Adelaide's hand.

"Please, let me walk home with you all?" He smiled.

Adelaide nodded, glancing quickly at her mother, "Yes, that would be lovely, thank you."

Gil smiled.

"Why don't you two go on ahead?" Margot suggested, holding Gisela's hand as the girl stepped towards the pair, "Gisela and I will help Cort here for a bit, but we'll be home soon." She nodded.

Adelaide smiled gently, but Gil caught the same, almost mischievous, spark in her eyes.

Gil offered his arm to Adelaide, nodding to Margot, "I'll make sure she gets home safely."

Margot smiled, "I know you will."

Gil walked with Adelaide out of the small hotel restaurant, and down the short hallway.

"It's good to be able to talk alone, isn't it?" Adelaide looked up at him, pulling his arm closer.

He smirked, looking down at her, "Ja, you think so?"

She nodded, continuing to walk beside him, "Thank you, for how kind you've been to my little brother."

"He's a good kid." Gil nodded.

"Ja. Young, but sweet. He doesn't understand war...but... he has his innocence, so that counts for something I suppose."

Gil nodded, leading her towards the door, opening it for her, and taking her arm again once they were outside. He glanced around briefly, before stepping onto the sidewalk. It wasn't far to her house, but they would have some time to talk.

"So, what do you like to do for fun?" He smiled.

"Oh, I don't know," she took a deep breath, smiling back, "I like films, I like… walking around… doing nothing," she glanced up at him.

Gil smiled still.

"How about you? Does a country even have spare time?"

He shrugged, "Sometimes. Though not lately," he shook his head.

"Oh?" Her brown eyes sparkled, though he could see the concern in them too.

"Ja… It's been a long few years," he tried to shrug it off.

Adelaide nodded, walking more slowly, "The war… tore my family apart. My father died and my sister…" she looked up at him, suddenly more worried, "Do you know how she died? Can you… feel something like that?"

Gil sighed deeply, nodding. "Your brother told me her name… and… he doesn't know what happened does he?"

She shook her head, "How…" she tried to find the right words, trending carefully, "How much did you see? Just my sister or…"

Gil sighed. This wasn't the conversation he'd hoped they'd be having. He closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded, "I know you were there," he sighed again, stopping, taking both of her hands, looking into her face, "You were brave. I know you tried to save her… I'm… I'm so sorry," he shook his head.

"It's not your fault," Adelaide looked away, trying to walk forward again.

"Do you really believe that?" Gil stopped her, holding her hand gently. "Do you really not blame me for everything? Because you should. It's my fault."

Adelaide looked up at him, "I don't blame you. You said you've tried to stop what's happened… I… there was nothing you could have done. It wasn't even your soldiers."

"They wouldn't have been here if-" He was cut off as she placed the tips of her fingers over his lips.

"Stop," she shook her head, "The war's over. I don't blame you. I'm not angry at you. I'm just…" She touched her scar. "I don't… I don't want to talk about the war anymore." She shook her head again, "Let's talk about something more pleasant…" She looked up at him, the spark returning to her eyes.

"What did you have in mind?" He smirked, slipping his arm around her waist.

She pulled away gently, wrapping her arm around his, "Well," She began, "Tell me, what was it like, 600 years ago?"

"Um…" He tried to figure out how to describe it. "Different."

She laughed, nodding, "I'm sure."

He smirked, "Very different. The clothes, the houses… everything."

"So, you said you were a knight?"

Gil nodded, smiling, "Yes. I represented the Teutonic Knights for many years."

"So you had to wear one of those long capes with a cross?" Adelaide smiled.

"That I did. And I looked good in it." He smirked, glancing back at her.

"I'm sure you did." She smiled.

"Of course, I was young, practically a child…" He sighed, "A lot has changed… since then." He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice from breaking. He shook it off, "So, um, tell me more about yourself."

"I'm not as interesting as you are," She pushed her hair behind her ear as they started towards her house again.

"Oh I think you are," he smiled.

"Well, I'm very sure I'm not. Tell me," she asked casually, "You said you live with Russia, in his mansion?"

Gil nodded. He didn't want to think about it.

"Why are you in Berlin now? And alone? Isn't Russia worried you'll get yourself in trouble?" her voice lowered, almost tempting him.

He smirked, "I think Russia's counting on it."

"Oh?"

Gil nodded, still smirking, "I don't intend to disappoint him."

Adelaide looked away with a blush, then turned back to Gil, "Are you here because of the rebels?"

Gil looked at her, surprised, "Well that's a rather forward question, don't you think?" he tried to sound playful.

"I'm not blind," she shook her head, "I see what's happening in the city."

"Oh?" He tried to sound more casual than he felt. What was she getting at?

They arrived at her house, and she let him inside. She looked around the room, then back up at him.

"Adelaide, what are you-"

"Having a pretty face has its advantages. I know things. Things I think you'd like to know," she smirked.

"What kind of things?" he took a step closer to her.

"Things like the names of the rebels, and their leaders."

"So you're a spy?" He smirked, amused.

She shrugged, "I suppose that's what you could call me." She smiled back.

"And how," he asked, brushing her hair behind her ear, "Do you get your information?"

Adelaide smiled, "I have ways," she looked up at him, her eyes captivating as she walked up to him.

"So, is there anything else you'd like to share?" He leaned in closer to her face, his breath quickening a little.

"Oh, I know a lot about what goes on in this city…" She stepped closer to him.

"And how do I get this information from you?" he leaned in closer still, whispering in her ear.

"Well, it's going to cost you…" her voice was low, tempting.

"Oh?" he smirked, letting his lips brush her ear, "And what is it going to cost me?"

"Get my family across the wall."

* * *

A/N: I'm baaaack! More more more to come! The cold war was fought mainly with espionage, and Gil is in Berlin, which was basically spy central. Adelaide is a LOT more than just a pretty face, as I'm sure you all noticed, well, you certainly have by now. She's definitely put Gil in a rather... frustrating... spot. Especially since she's not the only one in her family that he cares about.

Do you think Gil's going to try it? Will he still like her? Or is it over? Or is it worse? ;) Let me know. I've missed you all, dear reviewers, I hope to hear back from you! EXTRA cookies and hugs to all reviewers! And a cool drink. It's too hot out for cocoa. XD


	22. Chapter 22: Blurred

Chapter 22

Gil stood up straight, looking into her face. He wasn't sure if he was angry, or confused, or both. "What?" he asked finally.

"I'll tell you anything you need to know in exchange for you getting my family across the wall. That's my price," She nodded, taking a step back from him crossing her arms.

"No," he laughed, staring at her, "Do you have any idea what you're asking?"

"Of course I do! Don't you remember last night!? They were my friends too!" She took a deep breath, looking away for a moment, then back up at Gil, "I need to get them out of here. I need them to be safe. I can't…" She shook her head, "I can't risk anything happening to them. I can't lose anyone else," she looked down, brushing away tears.

"Save it," Gil snapped, grabbing her wrist, pulling up her chin to look at him, "Do you know how much trouble I could get you in?" He laughed again, "Of course you do."

She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling again, "What about Cort? What about him? He's a child… he doesn't deserve to live like this… caged…"

Gil looked down at her, releasing his hold on her wrist, "I like Cort. He's a good kid like I said… but I can't help you. You have no idea what you're dealing with… there's more at stake than you realize. I wish I could help you, intelligence or not… but my hands are tied. I can't do anything." He shook his head, "And you…" he held back a few words he wanted to say, "You're trouble."

She smirked, "I suppose so… but you said you didn't want to disappoint Russia." She slid her hand up his arm, onto his neck, "You said he expected trouble…" She brought her hand to Gil's face, "Shouldn't you give him some?"

Gil pulled her hand away from his face, gripping both her wrists again. He pushed her back against the door they still stood in front of, pinning her there with her wrists held near her face, his body pressed against hers, holding her to the door. He looked into her face, noticing her breathing getting faster. His was too.

"Don't try that on me," Gil spoke through his teeth, his voice hot with suppressed anger.

She didn't speak, just looked up at him, her eyes daring him to come closer as she smiled.

Gil laughed, shaking his head. "Nein," He threw her wrists down from the door and stepped back. "Look. I will do what I can for your family, and I'm sorry about what happened to your sister, but I can't help you. I can't do what you ask. You don't have to tell me anything. I'll find out myself." He stepped towards the door again, grabbing the handle. She stayed pressed against it, looking up at him. "Move." He snapped.

She grabbed his hair, pulling him into a kiss.

He slapped her, pushing her back, "What do you think you're doing!?"

She rubbed at her cheek, which had turned bright red. "Trying to get you to listen to me!"

"Well I'm not listening, I'm leaving," he turned away, grabbing the door handle again, reaching for the latch to unlock it. He heard a gun click.

"Don't move, Gil."

Gil sighed, standing straight.

"Let go of the door handle, and turn to face me. And let me see your hands."

Gil rolled his eyes, turning towards her raising his hands near his waist, "Look. I don't want to fight you." He sighed.

"You're not fighting me," she shrugged, "I'm the one with the gun."

Gil rolled his eyes again, and grabbed for the gun, twisting it out of her hand before she could shoot. He aimed it at her face. "You're not as good as you think you are," he shook his head.

"Teach me?" She looked up at him with the same familiar spark in her eyes.

"Stay. back," he held the gun steady. "You're going to answer some questions now."

"Or what, you'll 'interrogate me'? Tell me, how many people did you beat to death during the war."

Gil set his jaw, trying to stop his hands from shaking with rage, "You have NO IDEA what you're talking about. Sit down." He motioned to a kitchen chair. "NOW!"

Adelaide listened, sitting won, keeping her hands raised by her sides.

"Now, who are you? Who's side are you on? And what. do. you. know?"

"I told you my conditions for answering that," she didn't look at him.

"And I told you, no. I will shoot you if you don't give me the answers I need."

Adelaide looked up at him, smirking. She stood, walking towards him slowly until the barrel of the gun was pressed against the scar on her chest. "Go ahead."

Gil grit his teeth, trying to force himself to pull the trigger. "Just… tell me one thing." He almost whispered, hiding his shaking right hand behind his back, his left still holding the gun to her chest.

"What?" She asked, her eyes tempting again.

"Does the rest of your family know what you are?"

She paused for a moment, trying to decide if she should tell him or not. "No, they don't." She answered truthfully.

Gil nodded, pulling the gun away from her slowly.

"Does this mean you'll agree to help me in exchange for information? I can be useful to you, Gil."

Gil didn't answer, trying to process everything he'd just seen and heard. "I can't make any promises."

"All I need is that you try."

Gil nodded slowly, "I'll try."

"Danke!" She threw her arms around his neck, bringing her lips to his again.

He didn't push her away.

…

Gil sat on his bed, his elbows resting on his knees, and his forehead resting on his hands. He glanced at the clock again. It was only 2 in the afternoon. He sighed deeply, letting himself fall back on his bed. He sat up again, standing, taking off his military jacket and setting it down on the chair. He unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeves and rolled them up above his elbow. He shook his head, sitting back down, pressing his hands into his forehead. He'd made a promise he didn't think he could keep. He shook his head again with a deep sigh, standing again and walking to his suitcase. He unzipped it, opening it slowly, and reached into the side pocket, unzipping another closure. He took out a syringe and another bottle of liquid painkillers. He didn't even bother to grab a band for his arm. He filled the syringe to the top, pressing the needle into his arm, his veins already easy to see through his white skin. He barely managed to tuck the syringe and bottle back into their hiding place before his vision started to blur. He stumbled back to his bed, letting himself fall onto it, closing his eyes. He opened them immediately, images flashing before them. He blinked, shaking his head, trying to calm his mind. He looked up, people standing near his bed. They were blurred, but he could see they were so thin they looked like death.

"Why?" They asked, begging him.

Prussia shrunk away, pressing himself into the headboard, covering his face. That was worse. He gasped, shaking his head as he felt cold hands on his skin. He rubbed at his arms, trying to get the feeling away.

It's not real. He tried to convince himself. He covered his mouth, suddenly, gagging as the smell of burning filled the room. He closed his eyes, but the images in his mind were worse. He was sweating, shaking, images, faces, and screams ringing through his mind. He tore off his shirt, trying to press his own hands into his skin to keep the cold ones off of him. He looked around the room again, the people were gone, replaced by blurred shapes and shadows he couldn't make out. The burning smell was overwhelming. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he shook his head, closing his eyes tightly, trying to get the images to stop. He couldn't. He reached for the gun on the nightstand, looking for it, his vision blurry, moving like slow motion. He found it, his fingers clasping around the trigger. He raised it to his head, closing his eyes.

 _If I take too long to wake up Cort would find me…_ He couldn't stand that thought. He held the gun to his head a moment longer, still debating whether or not to fire it. He threw it down, pulling himself off the bed, crawling back to his suitcase, reaching for the drugs again. He cried out in pain as he heard more screams, people calling his name. He turned, looking back into the room. He could just barely see Poland rolled into a ball on the floor. A man towered over him, kicking him as the blonde country screamed, begging. Gil looked away, sick with guilt. He swallowed back the bitter taste rising to his mouth and pulled the syringe and bottle from their place. He tried to see clearly enough to get the needle into the bottle, filling the syringe again. He drove it into his arm, trying to hit the vein again. He pressed down, letting the only distraction he had left seep into his blood. He collapsed on the floor, the screams fading, the facing blurring until they disappeared. He tried to slow down his breathing. The room was still blurring, but the screaming had stopped. He could barely keep his eyes open, the sound of his own breath almost overwhelming in his head. He took the needle from his arm and slipped it back into the bottle, filling it once more. He let the needle glide back into his arm, pressing it hard until ever drop was gone from the syringe. He closed his eyes, falling to the ground, finally losing consciousness.

…

Gil opened his eyes slowly with a groan. He winced, looking back at his arm.

 _Great_. He congratulated himself, _Look how good at this you are_. He rolled his eyes. He pulled the needle from his arm, sighing as blood started gushing from it. He pressed his hand over the wound, waiting until the bleeding had slowed before forcing himself to stand. He took a bandage from his suitcase and wrapped it around his arm, still pressing firmly. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. When he looked up, he noticed the clock out of the corner of his eye. It was just past midnight. He glanced at the door. No one had come in our out. He'd left a piece of paper over the latch to be sure. He sighed again, relieved. He didn't want Cort to see him like this. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. He didn't want to see himself like this.

Gil walked to the chair where he had set his military jacket, and picked it up lovingly, hanging it in the closet with the rest of his clothes. He found his shirt on the floor across the room, and folded it neatly, setting it in the drawer. He sighed, unbuckling his belt, changing into sweatpants, hanging his military pants with his coat. He sat back on the bed, pressing his forehead into his hands again with another heavy sigh. He tried to get the images from before out of his mind. He felt sick, sicker than he had in a long time. Again he swallowed the bitter taste that rose to his mouth.

He glanced around the room slowly, relieved to see that no one was there. He closed his eyes suddenly, realization hitting him in the chest.

 _Is this what Poland lives with every night? Every day?_ He didn't want to answer that even to himself. He knew Poland lived with worse. He closed his eyes, the image of the man standing over Poland again coming into clear view. He refused to let himself look away this time, reliving the memory in his mind.

Strike after strike after strike hit Poland's body with the barbed wire bat he'd twisted while watching the blonde country squirm with fear. He'd kicked him, and struck him, pulling his hair, yelling in his face. He'd even drawn a knife down Poland's temple and cheek out of spite.

Gil opened his eyes. He couldn't remember anymore. He breathed hard, tears streaming down his cheeks as he gasped for breath, overwhelmed. He didn't want to think about what he'd done to Poland, to his own people, to Adelaide and her family… every day it got harder to live with. Every day he needed a higher dose of the drugs he hid. He didn't want anyone to know, especially Cort, especially Latvia. No one could know. He had to deal with it on his own. After all, no one could save him from himself.

* * *

A/N: Woohoo two chapters in one day! This is what happens when I get back from vacation and my fingers are practically aching to type! I missed you keyboard! So, Gil and Adelaide went at it for a while... and maybe more? We'll find out perhaps. Also... Gil's not doing well. That bad trip (down memory lane...) certainly didn't help, but he's starting to loose it a bit. At least he can sympathize with Poland a little more now...?

So, Gil and Adelaide went at it for a while... and maybe more? We'll find out perhaps. Also... Gil's not doing well. That bad trip (down memory lane...) certainly didn't help, but he's starting to loose it a bit. At least he can sympathize with Poland a little more now...?

I do really enjoy writing for Adelaide. She's sassy and confident and knows what she wants and how to get it. She's an interesting match for Gil, romantic or not. They're an interesting team... if you could call them that. Much more fun to come with that.

Gil's coping skills are awful. Terrible. Really, really really bad. *wince*

As always, reviewers are given cookies, hugs, and a nice cold drink for summer! Also as always, I do try to reply to as many comments as I can! I can't reply if you don't have an account, I'm so sorry! Mini-replies here! Kattie: yes I do like writing it! I LOVE writing this story! I'm so glad you love it! Danke! Gast: I am aware that the wall was built in 1961, no worries! :D I am speeding up history a bit in this fic to make things run faster, hence them mentioning the war is if it was only a few years prior to this. In this story that is the case. This is done for narrative purposes, instead of historical ones! I'm glad you're still enjoying it, though! :D YAY!


	23. Chapter 23: Distraction

Chapter 23

Gil woke with a groan and hit snooze on his alarm. It was 5 am and he didn't want to get up. His arm stung, his body ached, and his eyes almost refused to open. He sighed, the alarm going off again. He forced himself out of bed, walking up to the mirror, groggy. He looked tired. He felt tired. He hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep. He glanced down at his arm. The blood had soaked through the bandage that was partially falling off, and the bruise was worse, covering his arm from his elbow almost to his wrist. He sighed, turning in front of the mirror. He was skinnier than he remembered. The skin around his eyes had darkened to a dull grey, and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot. He licked his chapped lips, trying to hydrate them. It didn't work, only making them worse. He poked at the skin on his face and neck. He looked older somehow, though he hadn't aged. He flexed the muscles in his back and arms, smiling slightly to see that the definition he worked hard for still showed.

He jumped, glancing behind him. He hadn't heard anything. No one was there. He pressed his hands against his forehead, shaking his head. He looked up with a deep breath, grabbing a shirt from his dresser, and slipped it over his head. He tugged on his running shoes and walked out of his room, down the hall, and out the side door of the hotel. He started down the sidewalk, trying not to notice the scars left on the city by the war. He breathed deeply in the early morning mist. The sun was still low in the sky, dying the clouds bright orange and pink. He turned away from the sun, running down the long streets. The city was silent apart from single car passed, turning the corner behind him. He kept running, trying to let the rhythmic sound of his shoes hitting cement keep his mind off everything else. He slowed his steps as the wall grew closer. He didn't want to go closer to it. He had to go closer to it. He walked towards it, slowly, watching as it grew to tower above him. He could barely look at it, just the thought of the miles and miles of cement sending a shiver down his spine. He reached out, pressing his hand onto the cold grey stone. He sighed deeply, letting his forehead rest against it, trying not to let tears overwhelm him. He looked up again, letting his eyes travel up the wall to the top. There was no way to cross it, just a few gates. He pressed his forehead into the cement again, trying to think of a way to get Adelaide and her family past it. The gates would be the easiest way, but he would need a reason as to why they were using it. He shook his head.

"WHY!?" he screamed at the top of his lungs, slamming his fist against the wall, kicking it, not even caring that it hurt. "WHY WHY WHY!?" He turned around, pressing his back into the wall, sliding down, sitting on the ground, burying his face in his hands. "What do you want me to do?" he wasn't sure who he was talking to. Himself? God? He didn't care. "I can't protect them! I can't protect anyone…" He shook his head, letting his head fall back against the wall, looking towards the sky, He shook his head again, closing his eyes and bringing his head down again. He stood, pressing against the wall again, steadying himself. He brushed back his hair with his hand, trying to feel normal. He didn't feel normal. Nothing was normal.

He took off running again, taking the shortest way to the hotel. Cort was at the door as usual. Gil walked up to him, ruffling the boy's hair.

"Hallo!" Cort grinned up at him, "I didn't see you yesterday…"

Gil nodded, "I'm sorry. I was… busy."

Cort nodded, understanding, "So, do you like my family?"

Gil grinned, "Yes, very much."

"Especially Adelaide." Cort rolled his eyes.

"What's that now?" Gil laughed.

"You like her," Cort said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gil laughed again, kneeling so he was eye level with Cort, "And being the man-of-the-house, I suppose I need your approval?" He asked kindly.

Cort looked at him, surprised, but pleased. He nodded once, "Yes. You have my approval."

"Good," Gil smiled, standing, looking down at the boy, "So does that mean I can ask her out?"

"As long as she's home by… eight!"

Gil smirked, "Are you sure? That's very early… what about 11?"

Cort frowned, but nodded again, "10." He said, looking up at Gil, "You can have her back by 10. And take good care of her!"

Gil nodded, saluting, "Yes, sir."

Cort laughed a little, "Ok, now that that's settled… is there anything you need that I can do for you?"

Gil shook his head, "Nein. Get back to work. You're a very, very good man-of-the-house, Cort.

Cort beamed, "You think so?"

Gil nodded, "I know so."

Cort smiled, running off towards his boss, who beckoned him to help another guest.

GDR walked back up to his room, changing into his uniform, taking longer than he needed to to make sure every detail was as perfect as he could get it. He laced his boots, standing with a deep sigh of relief. It felt comforting to be in a uniform. It was one of the only things that made him feel like himself anymore. He walked out the door of his hotel room, locking it behind him. He had too many meetings to go to. He'd rather see Adelaide. He walked to the front door, nodding to Cort again as he passed the boy.

GDR walked down the hall on the main floor, walking into one of the conference rooms. Everyone, even the general, stood as he entered, which pleased him. He nodded to them to sit down and took his place at the head of the table.

"General, you may begin your report," GDR nodded to him.

…

Gil walked out of the room after saluting to everyone inside. He breathed a sigh of relief. He hated the part of his job that was listening to seemingly endless reports, especially when the statistics weren't good. He felt awful. His body ached, and his stomach turned over in knots. He bent over, leaning against the wall, trying to swallow hard enough not to throw up. He covered his mouth for a moment, trying to shake the feeling away. He forced himself to stand straight, walking up to his room. He closed the door behind him, closing his eyes. The economy was breaking, his people were dying, and the rebels were on the verge of becoming an actual problem. He took a step forward towards his bed, the movement almost causing him to collapse. He barely managed to drag himself into the bathroom before getting sick. He let himself fall onto the tile floor, gasping for breath, wiping his mouth. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, his throat burning. He was sweating, and his skin felt clammy and cold. He tried to force himself to stand up, barely managing to steady himself on the sink. He looked into the mirror again. He looked paler than he knew was possible, and his eyes looked almost dead. He closed them, hoping when he looked again he would recognize himself. With shaking hands he turned the valve on the faucet, splashing the cold water on his face, drinking some, trying to get the bitter taste out of his mouth. He turned the water off and grabbed the towel, pressing it to his face, leaning over the sink, breathing hard, still trying to regain his composure. He still felt terrible, but the worst of it seemed to be over. He tried not to think about anything. He glanced through the open bathroom door to his suitcase and the small pocket on its side. He needed a distraction. He struggled to walk towards the suitcase, leaning against the wall. He took one of the syringes and filled it with one dose exactly. It was barely enough, but he couldn't let himself get high enough for anyone to notice. He pulled his collar away from his neck, it being easier than taking off his uniform. He felt for the vein, sliding the needle into it, closing his eyes with a deep sigh as he felt his mind clearing almost immediately. He pulled the syringe from his neck, snapping off the needle and throwing it in the trash, trying to hide it. He put the syringe and painkillers back into their hiding place, and adjusted his uniform in the mirror, dabbing the few drops of blood from his neck. The collar of his uniform would hide the mark, but he didn't want blood on his shirt.

Gil sighed deeply, looking towards the door. He wanted to see Adelaide. He debated staying there, trying to figure out a plan to get her and her family across the wall, but he couldn't. He opened the door and walked into the hall, latching it behind him. He stood up straight, adjusting his uniform again, and walked through the hall and down the stairs. He smiled at Cort as he passed him, walking out the front door. He hadn't bothered to call for the car. He would rather walk. He felt strong enough to walk. The drugs were doing their job, keeping him sane enough to function, dulling the pain he couldn't live with anymore. The walk to Adelaide and her family's apartment was a short one, and he made good time, walking briskly, not stopping to notice anyone who noticed him. He knocked on their door.

Margot answered, "Gilbert! Come in, please!" She smiled warmly, beckoning him inside, "How are you today?"

Gilbert nodded with a soft smile, "Well enough," he said. He looked around the room for Adelaide. Gisela was sitting at the kitchen table writing vigorously in a notebook beside her, and Cort was at work.

"Adelaide is at the hotel, I'm surprised you didn't see her."

"She is?" He tried not to sound as nervous as he felt. What was she there for? What was she trying to find out?

"Yes, she said she wouldn't be back for another hour or so. You could certainly still catch her." Margot nodded, but looked into Gil's face with a worried expression, "What's wrong, Gilbert? You look…awful."

Gil sighed, "I feel awful…"

"What's going on?" Margot wiped her hands on her apron, turning back to the dinner she was cooking as she spoke but kept her eyes towards Gil.

"A better question would be 'what isn't'?" he sighed, "I don't have to tell you that things aren't that great here."

"Does it hurt you?"

Gil nodded.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Gil shook his head. He doubted Adelaide had told them about the promise he'd half-made to her. He didn't mention it, not wanting to get their hopes up.

"Well… thank you, for all you do. Your job isn't easy," she said, her voice full of a depth of wisdom that Gil rarely heard from humans.

"Danke." Gil bowed his head with a smile, "I'm glad to know at least I can do at least one thing right."

"Adelaide would argue with that," Margot smiled, almost mischievously. "Did Cort ever give you the speech he prepared?"

"Well, we talked, but I don't remember a speech…" Gil chuckled at the thought of Cort lecturing him.

"He has one for both of us!" Gisela chimed in from the table, not looking up from her notebook, flipping to the next page, "He says that since he's the only boy in the house he has to teach all the other's to leave us alone. I think he's a bit overprotective," she sighed, shaking her head, "Adelaide's so lucky to be older…" she looked up at Gil, looking him over, "I wish I was old enough to be your girlfriend. I'd share with Adelaide since you like her more." She went back to her writing casually.

Gil had to try with everything he had to keep from laughing. Gisela's crush was almost more than he could take. He looked at Margot, away from Gisela, biting his lips inside his mouth to keep from laughing.

Margot looked shocked and rather disturbed, "Gisela!"

"What?"

Margot closed her eyes with a sigh, "We'll take about this later…" She turned back to Gil, "You'll want to go back to the hotel if you mean to catch Adelaide."

Gil nodded, "Thank you, as always, for your hospitality. Should I sent Cort home when I get there?"

"If they can spare him, he would be helpful here," Margot nodded to him, "Danke."

Gil nodded again, leaving the house, and walking quickly back towards the hotel. Cort was at the door waiting for him.

"I knew Mama would send you back for Adelaide!" he said, "Now Hans owes me a mark!" he grinned.

Gil laughed, "You made a bet?"

"I'm old enough!"

Gil shrugged, "I suppose you are," he nodded towards the door, "Your mother wants you home if you aren't needed."

"Ok, I can go," Cort nodded, taking off his name tag. He looked back up to Gil, taking a deep breath.

Gil fought the urge to laugh, knowing what was coming.

"You must take good care of my sister. She's very valuable to me and my family, and we love her. If you hurt her, I'll kill you, so… treat her well." Cort said sternly, trying to look tough. "And don't let her stay anywhere past 10, remember!"

Gil nodded, saluting, "Yes, sir."

"Good!" Cort nodded back, then grinned, "I'm glad Adelaide picked you, Gil. I like you a lot too. I… I trust you."

Gil forced a smile. The words should have been comforting, but instead, they stung. "Danke," he said simply, "May I go find your sister now?"

"Yes! Of course!" Cort grinned, running to the front desk to return his name-plate and grab the small bag of his things. He waved to Gil as he ran out the front door and down the street.

Gil smiled with a sigh, waving back. He turned to walk up the stairs. Something told him to check his room first. He opened his door to find Adelaide standing over his suitcase, a syringe and the empty bottle of painkillers in her hand, the other two lying nearby. Tears were streaming from her face as she turned to him.

"W… what are you…?"

He wasn't sure if he was angry, but he set his jaw and snapped at her, "It's none of your concern." He walked up to her, pulling the syringe and bottle from her hands, setting them down on top of the now-disorganized clothes. He grabbed her wrist. "What are you doing in here?" He tried to sound angrier than he was. He was curious.

"Like you said, I'm a spy. It's kind of my job."

"And who exactly are you working for? You haven't told me that yet."

"Your boss."

"I kind of hate him."

"So do I."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because I follow orders, just like you," she looked up at him defiantly.

He rolled his eyes, sighing in frustration, "And what, exactly, are your orders?"

"I can't tell you."

"I'm ordering you to," he snapped.

Adelaide laughed, not even trying to pull her wrist away from his grip, "You can't give me orders, Gil."

"Yes. I can." He grabbed her other wrist, dragging her towards the wall. He pressed her up against it, pinning her wrists to her sides. He didn't speak for a moment, his eyes fixed on hers, which glittered with even more mischief than usual.

"Well?" She smiled, looking up at him, bringing her face closer to his, "What are your orders, Gilbert?"

"Stay," he whispered, his breathing getting faster.

"You're… ordering me to stay?" she looked up at him with a smirk, her own breath quickening.

"No…" He whispered, bringing his face closer to hers, "I'm… begging you to stay…" he tried to hide the desperation in his voice but knew she'd heard it from the smile on her face.

She brought her lips to his, speaking against them, "I'll stay."

He let go of her wrists, bringing his hands to her neck and waist, pulling her closer, letting her arms wrap around him as he kissed her. He knew he was playing into her game, but he didn't care. He needed a distraction, and she was more than distracting. He tried to push away the nagging voice in his head telling him that he'd regret it. He didn't care.

* * *

A/N: Lots happened in this chapter! We get to see the wall again... (Poor Gil...), more drugs, more Cort being absolutely freaking adorable... and Adelaide. The worst part is he KNOWS she's using him, but he's kind of using her back. It's certainly not _love_ they're feeling for each other. And they both know it. They're interesting to write, especially since when we first met her, she was pretending to be a 'normal' girl. She's not going to let the drugs things go by any means... but she knows how to get the information she wants, and she's plenty smart enough to recognize how desperate Gil is. I think she's one of the few people who actually recognizes how damaged he is (at least partially), and you better believe she's going to use that knowledge to her advantage. They're both using each other, and it's SO FUN TO WRITE. She's using him for information, and she's his drug, his distraction. The plot thickens indeed, Ella! XD

Also, since this is non-pairing, and I don't write smut, that's about as much as you're getting readers, just so you all know ahead of time. If you're expecting to hear what happens behind Gil's door in the next chapter, you are mistaken!

I have been giving reviewers so many cookies lately, that I thought it was time for a change. So reviewers get tea and scones this time. But the good kind. England/Arthur didn't make them, I promise. ;) Reviews are so appreciated! You guys got this story to over 50 reviews in no time flat! Thank you all so much! I'd love your thoughts on this chapter too, as again, I have a bit of a story within a story going on here. For those of you who would like to see this story go back to Russia's house, have no fear, that's coming too! :D


	24. Chapter 24: Useful

Chapter 24

Gil woke without opening his eyes. He rolled from his side to his back, stretching. He turned to his side again, opening his eyes, watching Adelaide sleep to his left. He sighed deeply, brushing her hair behind her ear. He was worried about her. She wasn't as good as she pretended to be, he knew that. If she were, she wouldn't have let him be the first to wake up. She'd be gone already. He turned to look at the clock over his shoulder. It was almost 7 am. He closed his eyes with a sigh.

 _Cort's going to kill me._ He wasn't afraid of the boy, but he didn't want to make him, or his mother, angry, though he doubted Margot would be surprised.

He looked back at Adelaide, his gaze drifting down the burn scar that traveled from her shoulder down her right side past her waist, though the worst of it was at her collarbone. Mixed with the burn were scars from shrapnel across her ribs. He touched them gently with another sigh. It was his fault. He sat up, stretching again, his back still stinging from the marks of her nails on his skin. He sighed again. He wasn't proud of himself for the night before. He was desperate, and she was distracting. He'd used her and she'd used him back. He stood, slipping on sweatpants and turned to his uniform which sat in a pile on the floor. He picked up each piece, dusting it off. He sighed, annoyed. He'd need to press it again. He knew he could have it done for him, but he didn't trust anyone else to do a good enough job. He laid the uniform on the dresser, glancing back at Adelaide again. She was still asleep. He looked back at the suitcase where she'd left the syringe and bottles laying on the clothes inside it. He looked at her again, walking up to the bed. He leaned over her, whispering in her ear.

"Adelaide?"

She didn't move. He could see the rise and fall of her breathing still in the rhythm of sleep. He smiled, and walked back to his suitcase, taking the syringe. Just one dose. More was too dangerous. He sighed deeply as the drugs worked almost instantly. He glanced back at Adelaide to see her sitting up, watching him.

"Do you do that every morning?" She asked, her voice almost as worried as her eyes.

He turned away, pausing for a moment before answering, pulling the needle from his arm and slipping everything back into it's hiding place. He nodded finally.

"How long have you been…?"

Gil shrugged, "A few months."

"Every day?"

Gil nodded again, "Not at first… but…" He shook his head, "You don't need to know any of this." He walked back to the bed and grabbed her wrist, almost pulling her up.

She stood, looking up at him, angry, "Really?" She wrenched her wrist free, shaking her head, turning away from him to pick up her dress, slipping it over her head.

"Wait," he stopped her as she turned to leave, taking her hand, "How soon can your family be ready to leave?"

She turned back to him, surprise barely hidden on her face, "You're actually going to help us?"

"I promised I would." Her surprise almost annoyed him. He kept his word.

She nodded slowly, looking up at him, "In this city…" She sighed, swallowing hard, "You just get used to people not keeping their promises."

"Well, I'm keeping mine. I said I'd help you in exchange for information, and that's what I'm going to do. I meet with the general again today. I'll see what I can do. I can't promise that it'll be easy. I need you ready to leave when I say you're leaving. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded, "Ja. We'll be ready."

Gil nodded back, "Good." He let go of her hand, "You should go. If you see Cort…"

"I'll handle my brother," She smiled with a slight laugh, "He's just trying to protect me."

"From me?" Gil smirked again.

"I guess he's smart like that."

Gil laughed, shaking his head, "You're quite a bit of trouble yourself."

She smirked, "I thought that was why you liked me?"

He rolled his eyes with a smile, "You're actually going to get yourself in trouble if you don't get out of here. I'll get in trouble too. I have a meeting to be at in less than two hours. I'll see what I can do for your family there."

She nodded, walking closer up to him again, planting a kiss on his lips, "Danke, Gilbert," she smiled. She leaned up to his ear, whispering, "Reiner Brandt."

He looked down at her, "Is that one of the leaders?"

She nodded once, looking up at him, "One of many. The more you help me, the more I help you."

He nodded, "Isn't that how we agreed this would work?"

She smiled, "Ja. I'm glad you remember. Don't forget that."

He smirked, shaking his head, "Oh I won't."

"Good," she turned, stepping towards the door, "The old train station," she whispered, walking out of the room.

He sighed as she closed the door. He wasn't sure if he loved her or despised her. It didn't matter. He needed her, and she needed him.

He turned back to his uniform with a frustrated groan, taking the iron and board from the corner of the hotel room.

…

GDR stood in front of the door to the meeting room. He had no idea how to ask for Adelaide's family to be sent over the wall. He tried to think of a reason, something he could use, some excuse to get them across. Anything. He didn't think his own request would be enough. He took a deep breath and opened the door, everyone standing and saluting him, except one man, who's back facing him. GDR froze, watching as the man stood, brushing his long tan coat as he turned around, a sickeningly childish smile on his face. GDR felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Well, GDR," Russia smiled, walking towards him, "Are you not going to say 'hello' to me?"

GDR shivered again, trying to force his breathing to steady and his voice to show no hint of fear, "Hallo, Russland," he set his jaw, bringing his shaking hands behind his back, standing up straight. He looked into Russia's violet eyes, trying to force himself not to look away, trying to steady his breath as Russia stepped closer to him.

"Has it been going well, GDR? I trust you have already learned valuable information for me?"

GDR nodded, "Ja. I have a name."

Russia grinned, "Wonderful! Please, come in, and share it with us."

GDR used every bit of willpower he had left not to wince as Russia clapped his arm around his shoulder, leading him to the table. He took his place next to Russia, who sat in the head chair. He looked around at the officers, the general, and glanced quickly back at Russia.

"Reiner Brandt. I have the name, Reiner Brandt."

"What source?"

"One I trust," he wasn't sure if that was entirely true, but it was close enough. He didn't exactly trust her, but he didn't think she had a reason to lie.

"And do you know his location?" Russia's voice was serious with a hint of excitement.

GDR nodded, "The old train station. I can lead you there."

Russia stood, "We will send a team in immediately. GDR, can you recommend soldiers for the job?"

GDR nodded again with a smile, "I can think of a few."

"Perfect. Can they be ready in three hours?"

GDR smirked, "They'd be ready in 30 minutes if I told them to be."

"We'll meet at the base in exactly 3 hours time. GDR, have your men there. As many as you think will be needed."

GDR nodded again, standing, saluting, "Yes, sir," he turned to the door, stepping out into the hall. He took a deep breath after the door was closed, his whole body trembling with fear. He felt sick. Russia was here. He looked at his hands, which shook hard enough to be clearly visible. He closed them into fists, trying to ignore the cold that had sunk into his chest.

He walked down the hall and to the front desk, asking for the car to be brought forward for him. He saw Cort out of the corner of his eye, helping one of the guests take their luggage upstairs. The boy didn't seem to notice him, for which he was grateful. He wasn't really interested in Cort being angry with him. He slipped out the front door to the car before Cort had returned. He kept his eyes down as they drove through the city. He didn't want to see it. He pressed into the inner corners of his eyes with a deep sigh, his hands still shaking. They needed to stop shaking. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders growing tense. He tried to relax, trying to shake off the feeling of dread in his stomach. He wasn't looking forward to Russia babysitting him. His thoughts were interrupted as the car stopped at the base. His soldiers would be waiting for him.

…

GDR walked behind Russia down the dimly lit hallway in the underground of the military base. They'd found Reiner and a few of the other rebels, but not enough of them.

"Thank you, GDR, for volunteering to help me with this," Russia said without turning back to look at GDR, "I've heard you're the best."

GDR smirked. He was the best, but he hadn't exactly volunteered. Poland's terrified face flashed in front of him for a moment. He blinked it away, setting his jaw. He didn't have anything to take. He could deal with it. It was only there for a moment. He stood straight as Russia opened the door. He knew how to be intimidating when he needed to be. He kept his face expressionless but confident, walking into the room slowly, not even looking at Reiner, who was tied to a chair in the room. He smiled as he heard Russia close the door, seeing Reiner shiver. He walked up behind him.

"Reiner, isn't it? Reiner Brandt?"

The man said nothing.

GDR smirked, "That is your name? Isn't it?"

The man still said nothing.

GDR clicked his tongue with a sigh, "You don't want to make this difficult, do you? All I'm asking is your name," he spoke softly, closer to the man's ear, smiling as he flinched away.

GDR stood straight again, pulling another chair from the corner and placing it across from the man, sitting in front of him, leaning back and pulling a cigaret from his pocket. He lit it, letting the smoke hit the man's face, smiling as he turned away.

GDR pulled another cigaret from his pocket, holding it out to the man, "Would you like one?" He noticed the man was shaking. He was practically a kid. He put the cigaret back in his pocket as the man shook his head. "How old are you?" he asked, leaning back in his chair again, resting his ankle on his knee. He looked back at the man, who was still shaking.

The man shook his head, trembling.

"And you are, in fact, Reiner Brandt?"

The man said nothing again.

GDR looked him over with a sigh, taking another deep inhale from the cigaret. He stood, walking around him again. He was barely an adult. He wouldn't be hard to break. GDR turned to his side, kneeling beside him, holding the cigaret in his mouth, unbuttoning the cuff of the man's shirt, pulling up his sleeve.

"W…what are you…?"

"Oh, so you do talk," GDR smiled, looking up at him, "That's good to know, I was beginning to worry." He took the cigaret from his mouth again, blowing smoke into the man's face. "Now, are you Reiner Brandt?"

The man nodded, slowly.

"And how old are you?" GDR stood again.

"N-Nineteen." The man's voice shook, though GDR could tell he tried to steady it.

"You're quite young for a rebel leader, it's almost impressive. You must be tougher than you look."

GDR walked to his other side, repeating the process of rolling up the man's sleeve, smiling as he shuddered again.

"What are you going to do to me?" Reiner asked through grit teeth.

"Only what I have to."

"What do you want?"

"Names, places… anything to help us stop your rebellion. Can't you see you're hurting your country, not helping it?" He sat back down across from Reiner.

Reiner said nothing, "I won't tell you anything," he said, setting his jaw.

GDR took another breath of the cigaret, standing again, walking to Reiner's right side. He put out the cigaret on Reiner's arm, watching as he winced, but didn't cry out. He was mildly impressed. Maybe Reiner could take more than he thought. He leaned in closer to the man's ear, speaking slowly.

"Do you know what 'Verschärfte Vernehmung' means?"

He heard Reiner's breath tremble, and the man nodded, "Ja."

"Good," GDR turned to sit across from him again, looking into his face, "I hope you're also smart enough to realize that it's not always necessary?"

Reiner said nothing, looking away from GDR, still shaking.

"At least, I don't want it to be…" He stood again, walking behind Reiner, "But not as much as you don't." He leaned in closer to Reiner again, putting his hand on the man's shoulder, smirking in satisfaction as he jumped, inhaling sharply, "Because I'm very, very, good at it."

…

GDR walked up the stairs into one of the officer's break rooms. Russia and a few of the other officers were inside talking quietly. He walked to the sink in the small kitchen of the room and started washing his hands, the water running pink.

"Did you get him to talk?" Russia asked, walking up behind GDR.

GDR shivered at Russia's approach but managed to keep his voice steady, "Not yet, but he will. I've barely started."

Russia smiled, "Your officers have been telling me how good you are. I trust I won't be disappointed?"

"Of course not," GDR smirked, looking up at Russia, turning the water off, drying his hands. He looked to his officers, "Make sure Reiner doesn't sleep," he nodded to one of them, "But give him something to eat."

The officer nodded and stood, "Yes, sir," he said and walked out of the room.

Russia leaned against the counter, crossing his arms and looking at GDR. "How tired are you?"

"I'm fine, it's Reiner who needed the rest," he smirked.

"Are you up for another interrogation? I hate asking you to do two at once, but we can't break this one."

GDR shrugged, "It wouldn't be too much for me." He took a glass from one of the shelves and filled it with water. He drank it quickly and turned back to Russia, "Lead the way."

Russia grinned, leading him out the door and back down the stairs. They stopped in front of another large metal door, leading to another empty room with two chairs inside. Russia opened the door.

GDR froze for a moment. A girl was tied to the chair, blood dripping from her fingers, her head bent down so her blood-matted hair covered her face. She looked up slowly as she heard the door creak open.

 _Adelaide._

* * *

A/N: Aaaaaand the plot thickens. Btw, 'Verschärfte Vernehmung' means 'enhanced interrogation'. You all know what that means, and we know Gil is good at it from Poland. We get to see a different side of him here, one that I don't usually see written out. Also, Russia's back, so that's going to make things interesting. Gil can't get away with as much anymore!

So many awesome reviews! Thank you so much! Aspiring Writer, I would love to help! Make an account so I can PM you and we can chat about writing styles! Thank you so much to all the loyal readers and reviewers! You guys are sure keeping my passion for this story alive! For those of you who don't love OCs so much, you can be happy that Russia has returned to make things even more interesting! And, as I've said before, the part of this story that involves OCs is only a small part of the story. Much more to come with the countries once GDR is doing being in Berlin! :D

Reviewers are given cookies and hugs as always! Thank you all again for your support!


	25. Chapter 25: Lessons

Chapter 25

Gil set his jaw, trying to hide his recognition of her. He turned to Russia, angry, "What did those idiots do to her!?" he growled, walking up to Adelaide and inspecting her hands and head. They'd torn at the tips of her fingers until they bled. Her skin had split where something hard had struck her head, bleeding into her hair. He lifted her chin. Her left cheek was bruised, and her lips and nose were bleeding. Her eyes were exhausted and angry.

Russia walked up behind him, also looking at Adelaide's hands, "They were just trying to get information from her," his voice was upset, almost uncomfortable.

"Well, this isn't how you do it!" GDR snapped, "What did they expect to gain from this? Idiots…"

Adelaide looked up at him, her eyes warning him to be careful.

GDR turned back to look at Russia, his voice hot with anger, his hands clenching into fists. "How long have your soldiers been working on her?"

Russia bristled at GDR's accusations but kept his voice calm, "Four hours, and some of them were your soldiers."

"Which ones?" GDR almost growled.

"Does it matter?"

"Ja, it does. Because I'm going to teach them how you actually interrogate someone!"

"I still need to know what she knows," Russia nodded to Adelaide, "You can deal with your soldiers later."

"She needs to rest first! If I tried anything now it wouldn't matter," he shook his head, his fists still clenched with rage. He turned back to Adelaide as she coughed hard, gasping for breath. She went limp. GDR sighed, untying her wrists, which were bound to the arms of the chair. He looked up at Russia, furious as he picked up Adelaide, carrying her towards the door.

"You know her," Russia said, his voice holding poorly concealed anger. "Who is she?"

GDR sighed again, turning back to Russia, "She's a spy, and she's on our side, or at least she was before your men, and mine, did this to her," he struggled to open the door. He managed to grab the handle, pulling the door open. He looked back at Russia, expecting to receive some kind of punishment for his boldness.

"Where are you taking her?" Russia's voice was calm, too calm.

"Upstairs to give her an actual bed. She's one of ours, and I intend to treat her like it."

"You've slept with her…" Russia smirked, but his eyes flashed with anger.

GDR didn't reply, "Have my men ready for me?"

Russia nodded, "Then I expect to hear about who she is, and what she knows. All of it. Otherwise, you're still going to interrogate her. And I'm going to make sure you do."

GDR nodded, "Understood." He carried Adelaide up the stairs into one of the empty barracks, laying her in one of the beds. He locked the door from the inside and walked back to her. "You can wake up now," he said, taking one of her injured hands, looking at the damage.

Adelaide opened her eyes, sitting up with a groan, bringing her free hand to the gash in her head, "Do you think Russia knew?"

"Knew what, that you weren't really unconscious?" Gil asked, reaching for her other hand, "I'm sure he did, and I'll probably pay for lying later."

"He hurts you?" Adelaide's voice was concerned.

"Nein," Gil said without looking up at her. He stood, walking to the bathroom, leaving the door open as he took a towel from the shelf and wet it.

"You're lying," Adelaide called to him.

Gil didn't reply, bringing the wet towel back to her, taking her hands. "I'll get you bandages for these."

"I'm fine."

"You won't say that once the adrenaline wears off," Gil shook his head, still irritated.

"Your men are brutes," Adelaide looked down at her hands, wincing in pain, "I told them I was on your side. They didn't believe me.

"I'll take care of them," he growled again, then looked up into her face kindly, "Are you all right?" He touched her cheek gently, pushing her hair behind her ear. He reached up to her face with the towel, dabbing the blood away from her nose and mouth.

Adelaide nodded, "I've had worse." She pointed to the scar, clearly visible over the neck of her tee-shirt.

There was a long silence as Gil cleaned the wounds on her hands and head. It wasn't deep enough to need stitches, which relieved him.

"Well?" She asked eventually, wincing as he pressed the cloth onto the wound in her head.

"Well, what?"

"Well, aren't you going to ask me how I got caught?" she smirked.

"How did you get caught?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"I let them catch me to keep them from finding the tunnel."

GDR stopped, pulling the cloth away for a moment, "There's a tunnel?" His voice was cold suddenly.

"Yes!" Adelaide turned to look up at him, "They're building a tunnel to go under the wall. We're going to get out!" she grinned.

GDR sighed deeply, "You shouldn't have told me that," he looked away, shaking his head.

"You… you're not going to tell Russia…"

"I might have to…" he didn't look at her.

"But you won't," She stood, facing him, touching his face, turning it towards her. "Gil, promise me you won't tell him. Please, it's my last chance to-"

"You may have just lost that chance." Gil pulled her hands away.

"Gil?"

GDR turned towards the door, setting the blood-stained towel beside the bed. "I'll get you those bandages."

"Gil!?" Adelaide called after him as he turned towards the door.

He stopped but didn't turn, letting her speak.

"I don't care what happens to me… just get my family across the wall… Gil…. please…. please don't tell Russia… please…"

He'd never heard her voice so desperate. He clenched his jaw again, forcing himself not to turn back to comfort her. He opened the door and walked into the hall, locking it behind him.

GDR sighed. He wasn't sure there was a way to protect her family, not anymore. At least it didn't seem like anyone knew where they were, that at least gave him a chance, maybe.

…

GDR turned the corner of the hallway. on his way to the room where Russia would have brought his incompetent soldiers. Russia was waiting for him outside the door. He stood in front of Russia, trying to act braver than he felt.

"Are my men in there?"

"Da." Russia's voice was ice.

GDR shivered, looking into Russia's face, "May I see them?" He stood straight, his hands behind his back.

"Not yet."

GDR grit his teeth, keeping his eyes on Russia's face, daring him.

"Follow me," Russia ordered.

"Nein. I have to deal with the men in there," Prussia said, keeping his eyes on Russia's.

"Leaving you alone here has made you forget your place, GDR," Russia's voice was angry but quiet.

"Maybe I have," Prussia dared him with his eyes again, challenging him to hurt him. He was too angry to care.

Russia reached for his hair, but Prussia's hand stopped him, twisting his arm back, pinning it behind his back.

Russia laughed, "So you do have fight left."

"Always," Prussia snapped, his voice hot with rage.

Russia broke free of Prussia's grasp, grabbing the country's white hair, bringing his knee to his ribs, gripping his neck.

Prussia doubled over, gasping as Russia brought him to his knees, his hand around his throat, pulling his head back. He smirked defiantly.

"Don't cross me," Russia snarled, bringing his face threateningly close to Prussia's. "Don't you _ever_ undermine my authority in front of a prisoner again."

"She's not a-" Prussia's words were cut off as Russia's grip on his throat grew tighter. He brought his hands to Russia's, trying to loosen his grasp on his neck.

"She is, what I say she is," Russia snapped, pulling Prussia's head back farther, slowly tightening his grip on the white-haired country's neck. He smiled as Prussia squirmed, desperate for oxygen. "Now, you will not defy me again…" Russia leaned in closer again, "Or I'll have to treat you like Poland."

GDR looked up at Russia, fear overpowering the anger. He blinked back the images that rushed into his mind for a moment with vivid clarity before vanishing again as everything started to go black.

Russia let go of his neck.

GDR fell forward, gasping for breath, bracing himself on the ground, bringing his left hand to his neck, panting.

"Now," Russia pulled his head back again, "You will promise not to defy me again."

GDR looked up at him, trembling. He nodded, "Ja."

"Good," Russia smiled, letting go of GDR's hair, offering him his hand, helping him to his feet.

GDR still trembled a little, allowing Russia to put his hand on his shoulder.

"Now," Russia said with a smile, "We'll handle your soldiers, and then we'll talk to the girl, what was her name?"

"Adelaide," GDR whispered, still rubbing his neck.

"Yes, Ade-Adelead," Russia shrugged, he couldn't get the name right.

GDR barely noticed, still breathing hard. He didn't look at Russia, "Will you let me deal with my men however I want to?"

Russia smiled. "Yes, of course, GDR," he put his arm around the smaller country, ignoring GDR's wince.

GDR looked up at Russia for a moment with a nod. He straightened, trying to stand tall and erase the exhaustion from his face. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to smooth the mess Russia had made of it. He glanced back at Russia once before opening the door. The soldiers inside all stood to attention as he and Russia entered, as did the officer watching them. The soldiers looked straight ahead, but GDR could see the fear in their eyes. The rage he'd felt from before boiling back up to his chest. He walked down past all of them slowly, then turned, walking back along the line, watching closely to see if any of them showed any hints of fear. He stopped at the end of the line.

"Which one of you was the leader in the 'interrogation' of the girl we captured at the train station?"

They stayed silent.

GDR laughed darkly, "You know it's almost funny that you all stay silent," he smirked, "Considering that my job is to teach you, how to get a man, or in this case a girl, to talk." GDR walked down the line again, stopping at the other side, "Now, someone explain to me why you though going straight to torture was a good idea!?" his voice was hard, angry.

No one spoke.

GDR smiled, looking down, "I see you're all begging me to demonstrate!" He turned to the group again, "Now, which one of you was in charge of the 'interrogation'?" He caught them trying to glance around the room, "Don't look at each other! One of you: step forward!" He waited a moment, almost hoping no one would so he had an excuse to make all of them pay for their stupidity.

One of the youngest stepped forward.

"What's your name, soldier?"

"Gefreiter, Rolf Geiszler, sir." The soldier looked straight ahead, never at GDR.

"How old are you?" GDR asked, walking around him.

"23, sir."

"So you just missed the war then," GDR nodded, "Good, otherwise you probably wouldn't be standing in front of me right now."

Geiszler said nothing, keeping his eyes straight ahead. GDR noticed the muscles of his jaw tighten.

"You don't seem to understand how this works…" GDR shook his head, "This doesn't get difficult unless you don't talk." He smirked, looking into the man's face, "Now, were you in charge of the interrogation?"

Geiszler said nothing again.

GDR sighed, "You just really want to give everyone a good lesson don't you?" He grabbed an arm-less chair from the conference table in the room and pulled it forward, setting it down in front of Geiszler, "Sit."

Geiszler looked at GDR for the first time, unsure.

"I said: Sit." GDR's voice was colder.

Geiszler obeyed, sitting in the chair, folding his hands in his lap, trying to hide their shaking.

GDR grabbed his shoulders, twisting him back so he almost fell off the chair, forcing him to steady himself by grabbing onto one front, and one back leg of the chair. He tried to brace himself as GDR pressed down on his chest, kicking his shins, forcing his legs under the chair. The young man's muscles tensed, trying to keep his balance as GDR kept his hand on his chest.

"Russia, do you have your handcuffs?" GDR glanced up at Russia, who leaned against the wall by the door, a sickening smile on his face

Russia nodded with a smirk, "Of course."

"Would you mind if I borrowed them?"

Russia shook his head, walking up to GDR, handing them to him.

GDR took Russia's handcuffs, and the pair he kept in his own pocket. He locked one of each of the cuffs onto the lacing of Geiszler's boots, then grabbed his hands, pulling them under the chair. He crossed the cuffs, locking Geiszler's right wrist to his left boot, and the opposite on the other arm.

"Comfortable?" Gil whispered, leaning close to Geiszler's face with a dark smile.

Geiszler said nothing, but beads of sweat started to appear on his face, and GDR could hear his breathing was harder, strained.

"Now," GDR said, standing up straight again, "You're going to tell me if you were the one in charge of the interrogation."

Geiszler was silent again.

GDR put his hand on Geiszler's chest and pushed down, drawing a slight cry of pain from the young man, "You're better at this than I thought you'd be. I'm actually impressed," he leaned harder against Geiszler's chest. "Do I really have to ask you again? Who was the leader?"

"I was, sir."

GDR shook his head again, "I don't believe you."

"It's the truth, sir," Geiszler said through grit teeth as GDR pressed down even harder, forcing the corner of the chair to dig into his back, catching on his shoulder blade. He closed his eyes, clenching his jaw harder to keep from crying out.

"And you're sure, it was just you?" GDR glanced back at the others, "Would they agree with you no matter what?" He pulled out his gun, holding it to Geiszler's temple, looking back at the other soldiers. He cocked the gun, returning it to Geiszler's head, pressing it into his skin, keeping his eyes locked on the other soldiers. "No one, would like to tell me what's really going on?"

One of the other soldier's stepped forward, shaking. "It was me, sir. It was me. I… I was just trying to get her to talk, I thought I was doing the right thing, I."

GDR stood, walking up to the soldier and putting the readied gun to his head, "And do you now understand that your 'method' was useless and unnecessary?"

The soldier nodded, shaking.

GDR fired the gun.

The soldier winced hard, then opened his eyes, staring at GDR.

GDR pulled the empty magazine from the gun, showing it to the soldier. "Lesson over," He turned back to Geiszler, unlocking the cuffs and helping him stand, patting him on the shoulder as he took his place in line again, "You did well, soldier, very well." GDR looked into his face, nodding, "I'll keep you in mind next promotion. If you can hold up that well, I could use you."

"I could have taken it longer, sir."

GDR smirked, "I'm sure you could have, soldier." He turned to the officer guarding the men, who'd watched from the corner of the room. "Let them go back to their normal duties. They've learned their lesson, take no further action." He nodded again, walking out of the room without another gesture to the soldiers. Russia followed him.

"That was impressive," Russia said, standing next to GDR, who leaned against the wall and lit a cigaret.

"That," GDR shrugged, "Was easy."

Russia chuckled darkly, looking away, the smile back on his face, "Were you serious about promoting Geiszler?"

GDR nodded, "Considering his age and rank he's never been taught to hold up under… 'enhanced' interrogation. He did well. With the right training, he could be very useful." He took a deep inhale of the smoke, turning to blow the access away from Russia.

There was silence for a moment, until GDR extinguished the cigaret, looking back at Russia, waiting for orders.

"I want to talk to Adelaide."

GDR sighed, nodding. "All right, follow me." He knew he didn't have a choice. If Russia wanted to talk to Adelaide, he would talk to her. A sickening dread sunk into Prussia's stomach. He tried to ignore it. He led Russia to the bunk room where Adelaide was being kept, unlocking it and letting Russia step inside first. He followed close behind.

Adelaide sat on the bed, her boots on the ground, leaning over with her elbows resting on her knees. She sat up, looking towards the two countries as they entered the room. She stood, walking up to Russia.

"You must be Ivan Braginsky. Or should I call you, Russia? What do you think, GDR?" She turned to Gil with a playful smirk.

Gil rolled his eyes, he was a step behind Russia, so he wasn't afraid of the bigger country seeing his amusement. He smirked back to her, her boldness both amusing and attractive.

"You know who we are?" Russia's voice was concerned instead of amused. He looked down at her, curious, irritated.

"Ja, I know who you are. I know a lot of things."

"Things I think I would very much like to know, da?" Russia took a step closer towards her.

"I have a price for the information I hold."

Gil shook his head, trying to hide the terror on his face. Trying to make a deal with Russia was almost suicide.

"Oh really?" Russia laughed, the smile returning to his face. Now he was amused. "And what, Shchenoksha (little puppy), is your price?"

Gil winced at the nickname. Adelaide didn't.

"I want my family to have safe passage across the wall. Do that for me, and not only will I give you all the information I have…" she paused for a moment, glancing at Gil quickly, "I'll stay on this side of wall and continue to gain more intelligence for you"

Russia raised an eyebrow, surprised by her request, "You want your family to leave? Are they not happy here?"

"They…" she decided to tread carefully, "They would like to go to the West. My father was killed in the war… my sister… died-"

"And you would give me all the information you have?" Russia broke in. He didn't care about her family.

Adelaide nodded.

"Then it's a deal. Where is your family?"

 _No. No no no no no don't fall for it._ Gil tried to tell her with only a look, forcing his breathing to stay calm, shaking his head slightly to her.

Adelaide didn't look back at Gil, seeing him shake his head in the corner of her eye. She kept her gaze fixed on Russia. She told him.

Gil closed his eyes, holding back a sigh. He looked into her eyes as they met his. _What have you done?_

"I will have your family sent for immediately," Russia smiled, taking her hand and kissing it.

Gil crossed his arms, glaring at Russia behind his back.

"I will have them made ready for the journey, here. They will take my personal car. No questions will be asked in crossing the border," he smiled still, nodding to her.

Gil looked at Russia, confused, and suspicious. It was too easy. He'd agreed to readily. There had to be a reason he was listing to her so completely, not even negotiating terms. He opened his mouth to speak.

Russia turned to him, stopping him, "There's nothing to say, GDR. The discussion is over. Her family will go across the wall in exchange for the information she has, what else needs to be said?"

GDR didn't reply, still almost too shocked to think of any kind of argument that wouldn't end in disaster.

"GDR, I need you to come with me now, you two will be able to talk later," he turned to Adelaide, "I will send someone for you soon. I'll make preparations for the information to be written down, or would you rather record it?"

"I can record it," she nodded, keeping her eyes on Gil this time, worried by his expression.

"Khorosho," Russia smiled, nodding to her. He put his hand on GDR's shoulder, almost forcing him to turn away and walk out of the room.

Gil glanced back at the door as Russia locked it. _Adelaide, what have you done?_

* * *

A/N: Well... this is going well... *wince* Also we get to see even more of the side of Gil that's... dark. Really dark. Again, all tortures described were real and really used. *shudders* His soldiers better have learned their lesson. Also, Adelaide may be confident... but she's not as good as she thinks she is... or is she? And more Russia snapping between completely Psyco and actually quite nice. Also, Prussia's still in there somewhere... but hopefully the change from pre and post-fight-with-Russia Gilbert was obvious. I tried to make it so!

As always, reviewers are to be given cookies and hot tea or cocoa, depending on your preferences. Or lemonade and biscuits. Your choice. There's much food today! It's almost a holiday here in America. (Kattie... you said you're from the UK... sorry not sorry... ;P (I'm kidding of course)) Thank you, as always, to the loyal reviewers! I appreciate all of you so much! 3 *hugs*


	26. Chapter 26: Parallel

Chapter 26

"Russia?" A soldier walked in, saluting the country, who sat at his desk, "We're ready to pick up the spy's family."

Russia nodded, standing with a smile. He walked to the officer and motioned for him to lead the way through the halls onto the street where the large car was waiting for them. Another followed behind them, ready to carry the passenger's luggage. They arrived at the house within twenty minutes. Russia stepped out first, walking to the door himself. He knocked.

Margot opened the door, her face resolute and courageous, "Welcome, Comrade Braginsky," she said. She kept her voice calm, her eyes on Russia's violet ones. She knew very well who he was, but said nothing.

Russia smiled, nodding to her, "Comrade," he nodded to her, pleased at her address. "I trust you have been informed of the reason for my visit to you?"

Margot shook her head politely, "I have not, only that my children and I were to be ready to leave, permanently." She kept her voice steady, though her hands trembled slightly.

"There's no need to be afraid," Russia smiled again, trying to sound kind, "Your daughter was very… persuasive… in her argument for sending you and your other two children across the wall. I have decided to give her what she wants."

Margot stood shocked, "Across the wall? You're sending us across the wall?" A thrill of hope filled her, then it sunk back into dread, "My other two children?"

Russia nodded with another smile, "As payment for your safe journey to West Germany, your daughter, Adelaide, has agreed to remain on this side of the wall. She will work for me and my army. Don't worry, she won't be hurt." Russia shook his head, the smile still on his lips.

Margot nodded slowly. She couldn't argue. She was in no position to argue. "Let me call the others to get their things."

"I have men who will help you carry what you need," Russia looked back to the cars, motioning for several soldiers to enter the house.

Margot watched the soldiers walk through the door, hiding a shudder. She covered her mouth with her hand, turning away quickly as she caught a glimpse of one of the soldier's faces.

Russia put his hand on her arm, concerned suddenly, "Are you all right?"

Margot nodded, trying to regain her composure.

Russia ordered the soldiers to stop. "Come back here," he barked.

The soldiers returned to the doorway, standing at attention, listening to Russia.

"Please, which one of these men caused you your distress?" he tried to sound reassuring, kind even.

Margot shook her head, "Please, I'm all right."

"No, you're not. Tell me, which one, and why?"

Margot stared into the eyes of one of the soldiers, keeping back rage more than fear. She nodded to him, "That one."

"Step. Forward." Russia ordered the soldier, who obeyed, never looking at either Russia or Margot. Russia turned back to her again, "Why does this soldier upset you?"

Margot looked down for a moment, almost unable to look into the soldier's face. "My daughter…" she whispered.

"The young one?" Russia asked, confused.

"Nein… I… I had another daughter between Adelaide and Gisela… her name was Bern."

The soldier tightened his jaw at the mention of the girl's name.

Russia noticed. He turned the soldier's face to his own roughly. "What did you do to this girl?" he ordered.

The soldier said nothing.

Russia turned to Margot, who wasn't looking at him. "What did he do?"

Margot took a deep, shaking inhale, before speaking. "He killed her… after he… hurt her," she couldn't say it. It was still too painful.

"Is this true?" Russia looked into the soldier's face, still gripping it in his gloved hand.

The soldier didn't look at Russia but nodded.

Russia pulled out his gun and shot the man through the head, letting the body fall onto the floor of the kitchen. He turned back to Margot. "There. Now that that's taken care of, I will help you pack your bags into the cars," he smiled cheerfully, re-holstering his gun at his hip.

Margot stared at the body, still in shock. She forced herself not to tremble, trying to hide her terror as she walked to Gisela's room. She knocked, smiling at the girl as she opened her door.

"The soldiers are here," Margot smiled at the girl, pushing her hair behind her ear, "They're going to help us get across the wall."

Gisela opened her mouth to cry out with excitement.

Margot put her fingers to Gisela's mouth, shaking her head, "I need you to stay calm, and stay by me. No matter what you see, keep quiet, is that understood?" her hands trembled.

Gisela nodded, biting her lip, keeping her eyes on her mother's face, "Mama…?" she whispered, frightened.

"I need you to trust me," Margot nodded to the young girl, placing her hand over the girl's eyes.

"What are you-?"

"Just trust me."

"Yes, mama…" Gisela whispered again, shaking.

Margot led Gisela through the kitchen, keeping her hand firmly over the girl's eyes, not allowing her to see the body lying on the floor, the pool of blood around it only growing. She opened the door and let Gisela step outside, not letting go of the girl's hand, but taking her hand from her eyes.

"W-What's in the house, mama?" Gisela asked, trembling.

"Never mind, dear." Margot nodded.

"Will Cort see it?" Gisela bit her lip again.

Margot didn't answer. She didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't think of a way to avoid it without leaving Gisela alone, and there were too many soldiers. She didn't trust any of them. She looked back into the house as she heard a man knocking on Cort's door. She watched as the boy opened his door and stared up at Russia.

Russia froze, staring into the boy's face, taking a step back for a moment. He glanced over the boy's chestnut hair and giant brown eyes that seemed to know more than they should. He forced himself to reach for the child's hand.

 _"_ _May we have some chairs, please? For the child?" Alexandra asked, motioning towards Alexei, her voice holding barely hidden terror._

 _The soldiers brought in three chairs, one for Nicholas, one for Alexandra, and one for Alexei, the son of the Tzar._

 _Alexei leaned up and kissed his father's cheek for the last time, resting his head on his mother's shoulder. He closed his giant blue eyes, knowing what was about to happen before anyone spoke._

 _"Your relations have tried to save you." Yakov, the man in charge of the evening, explained with a triumphant gleam in his eye. "They have failed and we must now shoot you."_

 _Nicholas jumped out of his chair. "What?" He shouted, almost begging._

 _Alexei watched in terrified horror as what seemed like a hundred shots rang out. Bullets tore into his father's chest, his blood splashing on Alexei's face. Nicholas fell to the ground. He saw his mother turn away from Yakov, and Pytor Ermakov, a drunken soldier, shot her through the head. He stared at her body on the ground, too shocked to move, to afraid to scream._

 _He watched his sister Maria scratch at the storage room door, trying desperately to open it, until Ermakov shot her in the leg, bringing her to the ground, where she stayed._

 _The smoke was so thick he couldn't see the soldiers, and they could barely see him. They left the room, waiting for the smoke to clear. He didn't move, staring forward at the door, not daring to look at the bodies all around him. The sound of his sister's crying came from behind him, and he could hear Maria moaning in pain beside the storage door. The smell of gunpowder and blood were so overwhelming he barely noticed them. He gripped the bottom of the chair, trembling, trying not to even breathe. He jumped, feeling his sister's arms wrap around him._

 _"_ _Alexei…" Anastasia whispered, clinging to him._

 _"Anna, I'm frightened," he wept._

 _Anastasia kissed his cheek, "I'm right here, Alyosha. I'm right here…_

 _"Mama, Papa..." Alexei whispered over and over, sobbing almost silently, his knuckles white as his hands clung to the chair._

 _The soldiers came back into the room. Yakov grabbed Anastasia away from Alexi. Alexei turned to see a soldier aiming for his head. The shot missed. Yakov didn't. A shot landed in the boy's chest. The impact sent Alexei to the ground, landing next to his father's body. The bullet hadn't pierced his skin, the jewels that were sewn into his clothing acting as armor. He grabbed onto his father's sleeve and buried his face into it, too terrified to move, hoping the soldiers would think he was dead, and wouldn't shoot at him again. He felt a boot against his side and looked up into Ermakov's face. He screamed as the soldier drove his bayonet into his body, again, and again, and again. Blood dripped from Alexei's mouth as shrieks of pain rang through the room. He gripped his father's sleeve tighter, seeking any kind of comfort. He felt a shot graze his head. He looked up into Ermakov's face, his tear filled eyes begging him not to do it. Ermakov fired into the boy's face. Alexei's grip on his father's sleeve went limp._

 _…_

 _Russia walked down the stairs of the old house, Yakov leading him down into the cellar. He could smell the smoke and gunpowder. The stench of blood hit him in the face as they passed the last few steps. Yakov led him to the door of the room. Russia nodded to Yakov, who turned away, allowing Russia to enter the room alone. Russia didn't look into the room as he opened the door, turning to close and lock it. He took a deep breath, turning around to look into the room. He froze, shocked. Blood was everywhere, splattered across the walls, the floor… everyone. Olga and Tatiana's bodies were still tangled together, holding each other, through both of them had been shot through the head. The doctor and servants lay near them, laying in pools of blood. Anastasia was near her mother, blood covering her grey dress and face. Maria was against the back wall, near the storage room door. Her face was broken, smashed by the butt of a pistol, and a bullet had struck her head. The Tsar and Tsarina lay close to each other, near the chairs that were knocked over, soaked in blood. Between the two of them was Alexei, soaked in blood, his white face striking against his father's dark grey jacket._

 _Russia shook his head, running up to the boy, kneeling on the wooden floor, not caring about the pool of blood that instantly covered his legs and coat. He lifted Alexei in his arms, cradling him, pressing his face into the boy's dark hair. He pressed Alexei's head against his chest, shaking with sobs, trying not to make a sound so the other soldiers wouldn't hear him. He loosened his hold on Alexei, looking into the little white face, an expression of pain and fear permanently written on it. He closed his eyes, bringing the child's body to his chest again, tears streaming down his cheeks._

 _"_ _Nyet… Nyet pozhaluysta… " he whispered, kissing the boy's bloody hair. "Alexei… Alyosha… nyet…" he looked forward suddenly, screaming as more pain tore through him than he'd ever felt before. He pressed Alexei's body against his own, shaking with sobs, crying out in agony as he felt every bullet rip through his own body, all the pain, all the screams. He let Alexei's body fall back beside his father's and pulled the knife from his own belt. He looked at it, screaming in pain again. He looked back at Alexei… so much blood… He looked straight ahead and grabbed at his scarf, pulling it away from his neck. He laid the knife against his skin under his jaw. He closed his eyes._

Russia touched his scarf almost instinctively as Cort took his hand, looking up into his face. The boy's eyes were scared but strong. He led the boy to the car, nodding to the soldiers who brought out all the luggage behind them. He opened the door for Margot and her children, trying to long at them only as much as he had too. He couldn't look at Cort. His smile, his hair, his eyes… he couldn't look at him. He closed the door and walked to his own car, sliding into the passenger seat and pressing his gloved hand against his forehead. His driver knew better than to ask, for which he was grateful. He pushed back the tears that tried to come into his eyes. He didn't have time for this. He was over this. This didn't bother him anymore. The Tsar needed to die. All his children needed to… he couldn't even think it. They didn't need to die. He just didn't try hard enough to save them. He tried to push the thoughts away. They were too painful. He touched his scarf again, checking to make sure it covered the scars.

* * *

A/N: Something a bit different here. Gil isn't even in it! This entirely Russia-centric chapter gives a little glimpse into his mind, though certainly not a complete one. His mind is a dark place. He's haunted by a lot of things. This chapter will become very. VERY important as the story goes on. *HUGS RUSSIA*

Reviews are appreciated as always! Reviewers are given popsicles, burgers, and any and every other 4th of July treat that they wish! I love reading all your theories especially! Some of you are closer than others... but so far no one has guessed correctly. ;)

There may be another chapter coming yet tonight. I started writing the next one as the end of this chapter, but it would be better as the start of the next one, so that is what I'll do. Things are about to get... bad...


	27. Chapter 27: Forgiveness

Chapter 27

"Your family is here," GDR walked into the bunk room where Adelaide was staying, closing it behind him. He glanced at his watch quickly. It was 7 pm. They'd gotten back from her family's apartment before 3 pm, but he hadn't had an opportunity to talk to her.

"Let me see them!" Adelaide smiled, running up towards the door.

GDR stopped her, "You can't see them. Not yet."

Adelaide looked up at him, annoyed, "What do mean I can't see them?"

"You made a deal with the devil. He makes the rules."

"I don't think so," she tried to push past him,

GDR stopped her, holding her arms firmly. "I have a recorder. I'm here for you to tell me everything."

She stared up at him. He wasn't looking at her, "You hate me don't you?"

He shook his head.

"So you just think I'm stupid?"

He turned back to her, trying to figure out what words to say, "You can't win this…" he whispered finally, "You can't win, Russia's too strong. He's too smart… he…"

"Are you saying he won't let them over the wall?"

"No, I think he will," GDR nodded, "But you…"

"I don't care about myself, just them," Adelaide shook her head, setting her jaw.

"Well that's too bad because I do," he turned to her for the first time.

"What?" she blinked, staring up at him, "You what?"

"Believe or not, I actually do care about you." He looked into her face.

She stared into his eyes, surprised, almost touched, "That's probably a bad idea…" she shook her head, not taking her eyes off his, "I don't think I'm getting out of here alive…"

Gil said nothing, closing his eyes.

"You don't think so either, do you?"

Gil said nothing but pulled the recorder from his pocket. He walked to her bed and sat down, setting the recorder on the small table beside it. "We should record this. Russia won't let your family leave until he has it."

Adelaide nodded, walking to Gil and sitting down beside him, saying nothing.

Gil set the recorder to start. He kept his face forward. He couldn't look at her. He closed his eyes with a deep sigh as he felt her fingers wrap around his. She started to speak, listing names, places, plans, and movements of resistance troops. Gil was impressed with how much she knew.

She nodded to him, smiling sadly, "That's it. That's everything."

Gil stopped the recorder and sighed, not moving for a moment. He wasn't sure what to say.

"I know, Gil," Adelaide sighed back, "I'm not useful anymore. I know."

"The kind of information you know…"

"I'm a liability, I know."

Gil turned to her, trying to keep his eyes from betraying the words he couldn't say.

She leaned closer to his face, kissing him gently, "Thank you, Gil. For everything."

"When you made the deal with Russia…"

"I knew what I was doing."

Gil said nothing but brought his hand to her cheek.

"On the off-chance, he decides to keep me alive…" She tried to force a smile, "What's he like?"

Gil sighed, shaking his head, looking away.

Adelaide brought her hand to his back gently, pulling it away as he winced, "Let me see it," her voice was firm, worried.

Gil shook his head, standing, "It's nothing, I'm fine."

"No, you're not!" Adelaide stood, facing him, "You avoid my questions about him, you get this terrified look on his face if he so much as glances at you, you take way too many drugs every day, and for the entirety of last night, I never saw your back once. Show me."

"Nein," Gil snapped, grabbing her wrist again as she reached for his shirt.

"Gil, please…"

"You don't need to know."

"Yes, I do!" she pulled her wrist away from him. "You aren't allowed to care about me and then not let me care about you," she shook her head, "Now show me."

Gil looked away, closing his eyes. He started to unbutton his military jacket, taking it off and laying it on her bed. He stopped for a moment, looking back at her. "You won't like what you see… just… promise me you won't do anything about it."

"What do you-"

Gil turned around, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off, letting it fall behind him. He closed his eyes as she touched his back, tracing the communist scar. It was almost fully healed, but it was deep, and still a dark red color. He wondered if it would ever fade. His breath grew sharper as she reached the fresh bruises Russia had left that afternoon. He hadn't seen them yet, but with his white skin, he was sure they looked horrible. They certainly felt like they would.

"What did he…" Adelaide's voice trembled, and he thought he could hear tears in it, "What did he to do you?" She whispered, touching the hammer and sickle scar again, tracing the lines with her fingers.

"He didn't," Gil forced himself to speak. "I did."

Adelaide pulled her hand away, "Y-You did this… to yourself…?" She whispered, horrified.

"I didn't have a choice…" Gil turned, shaking his head. He took Adelaide's hands gently.

"And the bruises…" she didn't look up at him, "they're brand new…"

Gil closed his eyes with a deep sigh, "After coming back from your house…. he got drunk and… bored."

"What?" Adelaide asked, still shocked.

"I deserved it. I… I tried to rebel earlier and-"

Adelaide took a step back, "Listen to yourself. You 'deserved it'? Gil, it's horrible. Don't you dare say you deserved…that…ever…" She shook her head, tears falling from her eyes.

Gil said nothing, trying to bite back the tears, "You have no idea what I've done…"

"You said you didn't know what-"

"No. I didn't… because I looked the other way…" He let the tears fall, "Because I didn't want to know. Because it was too horrible to think about. I didn't think about it. I did my job. I interrogated hundreds of prisoners… I needed less breaks than most… You asked me once how many people I beat to death…"

"Gil…"

"Well, I lost count," he swallowed hard, "I followed orders. I didn't ask. I beat who they told me to, I showed mercy to who they told me too. And I was good at it. I was… I enjoyed it… it was fun… breaking people… and Poland…" he shook his head, not even trying to hold back the tears anymore, "After my brother was done with him… they sent me to hurt him. He didn't have anything to tell us anymore… I wasn't… That wasn't why they ordered me to…" He closed his eyes, trying to steady his voice, "I didn't know that they would send him to-" he couldn't get the words out. He licked the tears off his lips, turning away again, not looking at Adelaide's face. He could hear her breathing choked with tears. "I deserve every strike Russia gives. Every bruise… every cut, every broken bone… everything… anything he can think of, I deserve it…" Gil shook his head, looking away, tears dripping from his cheeks onto his arms as he wrapped them around himself, trying to hold back the sobs that rose to his throat.

Adelaide pulled his arms away from his chest, letting them wrap around her instead. She slipped her arms around him, being careful of the deep bruises on his back. She held him tightly, tears streaming down her own cheeks. She kissed his shoulder, feeling his arms grow tighter around her. She could feel him shaking, trying to hold back the tears.

"Don't…" She whispered in his ear, kissing his hair gently, "I won't tell anyone. It's ok…"

He broke, falling to his knees and pulling her down with him. He gripped her back, clutching her shirt, sobbing against her shoulder. She tried to be gentle, almost afraid to hold him, scared she would hurt him.

"I don't care…" he managed to choke, pushing her arms up on his back, gripping her tighter.

She pressed against his back, holding him close.

Gil sobbed harder, the faces flashing in front of him again, no matter how tightly he closed his eyes. Their screams worse torture than anything Russia could ever inflict. He gasped for breath, sobbing against her shoulder.

She kissed his hair again, "I'm right here…" she traced her hand over his back gently, trying to comfort him, trying to be gentle.

"I can't…" he whispered, his voice so choked with sobs he could barely understand himself.

"You can't what?"

"I can't live with this…" he shook his head, pressing it into her shoulder, his face hot from crying. He could barely breathe.

Adelaide said nothing, only pulled him closer. She brought her legs over his, kneeling on either side of them so she could hold him even closer. He didn't look up at her, pressing his face into her chest, clutching her back, sobbing still. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, feeling his breathing finally starting to slow.

He didn't have anything left, he couldn't cry anymore. There were no more tears. He looked up at Adelaide, letting her brush the stains from his cheeks. He closed his eyes as she leaned down to kiss the tears from his face, bringing her lips to his.

He wanted to pull away. He couldn't do this to her. She couldn't be his drug. She deserved more than that, but he needed her. He pulled her closer, kissing her neck. He needed her. He looked up into her face, bringing his hand up to touch her cheek, looking into her eyes. They were kind, too kind. He closed his eyes, taking her face in his hand again, bringing his mouth to hers.

"I need you…" he whispered, almost desperately.

She didn't reply with words.

…

GDR jumped, hearing Russia's knock on his door. He was adjusting his uniform in the mirror again, making sure everything was as perfect as it could be.

Russia walked up behind him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

GDR winced.

"I'm sorry about yesterday…" Russia sighed, pulling his hand away.

GDR nodded, looking back at him, "I know."

"I finished the recording you gave me…" Russia's words grew colder, "She knows more than she should."

GDR nodded again with a deep sigh, "I know."

"I have it all arranged for her family to cross the wall."

GDR looked back at him, surprised, "You're actually going to let them go to West?"

Russia nodded, "Of course, I do keep my promises, as you know."

 _"_ _So I'm going to break your wings," Russia smiled._

GDR shivered. He knew Russia kept his word. He touched his left arm instinctively.

"I need one final meeting with the family before I let them go, make sure they're in the conference room at 1 pm today," Russia smiled again, turning towards the door, "Bring Adelaide."

GDR nodded, "They'll be there." He watched Russia leave. He glanced at the clock on the wall of the barracks. It was just past noon. He smiled slightly, putting the finishing touches on his uniform. He turned in the mirror, again noticing how thin he'd become. He turned away from the glass, walking through the door to the room where Adelaide's family was being kept. Cort flew to him as soon as he opened the door.

"Gil!" Cort's voice shook with fear.

GDR had to almost pry Cort off of him. He looked down into the boy's face and smiled kindly, then looked up at Margot, "Are you being treated well?"

Margot nodded, petting Gisela's hair as the girl leaned against her shoulder.

"You're all being asked to have your things ready in the conference room at 1 pm. You'll leave today from there."

Cort's face lit up, "We're going across the wall today? For sure?"

Gil smiled, nodding to him, "Yes. For sure."

"Is Adelaide ok?" Cort asked, suddenly concerned.

Gil nodded. It felt like lying, "Yes, yes she's all right."

"Will she be there?"

Gil nodded again, "Yes, she'll be there." _She's just not going with you…_ he couldn't tell him, not yet.

Margot stood, walking to Gil. She held out her hand to him, which he took, "Thank you," she smiled, "For everything you've done." She looked into his face. Her eyes full of wisdom.

Gil forced himself to smile at her, "You are most welcome," he said. He looked into her eyes. She knew something was wrong. He nodded, hoping it was enough to confirm her suspicions. "I'll see you at 1 pm." He looked back at Cort, who grinned.

…

GDR stood in front of the door to the conference room. It was 1:02. He'd waited until he saw everyone walk inside to walk up to the door. He took a deep breath. He didn't know what was going to happen, but sickening dread had settled into his stomach. He opened the door and stopped, staring.

Russia was holding Cort's arm, aiming a gun at his head. He smiled, turning towards the door, "GDR, you're here," his smile grew wider, "Just in time."

GDR looked at Russia, then at Cort. "What are you-"

"That gun," Russia nodded to a gun on the table, "Is yours."

GDR stepped forward carefully, picking it up. He looked at Russia. _He's still drunk…_ He shuddered. He didn't want to think about Russia was going to do. He glanced at Margot, who stood pushed back against the wall, holding onto Gisela, who was crying. Two soldiers stood near them, making sure they didn't move. Margot was keeping her eyes fixed on her son, rage in her eyes.

Adelaide was tied in a chair between Cort and Margot. She looked up at Gil slowly.

He set his jaw in anger. Her lip was split and bleeding from a punch to the face.

Russia smiled, "We're going to play a game," he said, his voice cold. He turned to Gil again, pressing the gun harder into Cort's temple.

Cort winced, letting out a quiet speak of pain.

Gil closed his eyes, then opened them again, looking at Russia. "W-what game?"

"I'm giving you a choice…" Russia whispered, his voice angry.

Gil didn't ask, knowing Russia would continue. _No… no no no no no…_

"Three people in this family are leaving to go across the wall."

Gil winced again as Gisela started sobbing. He looked back at Cort, who shook with fear.

"But they're all traitors," Russia's voice was colder still, full of veiled rage.

Gil set his jaw, he wouldn't let Russia hurt any of them.

"However…" Russia smiled, "I'm going to forgive them!" He grinned, "Except one." He fixed his eyes on Gil's, then looked at Adelaide. "Shoot her."

"What?" Gil froze, staring at Russia, "W-what?" he asked again, almost whispering.

"Kill her, or I kill Cort." Russia pressed the gun against the boy's head again, drawing another cry of pain from him.

"Don't do it, Gil!" Cort shouted to him, his voice trembling, "Let him kill me! Don't hurt my sister!"

Gil stared at Adelaide, then back at Cort. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

"Take me instead!" Margot called, trying to rush forward as the soldier's caught her.

"Nyet!" Russia snapped at her. "Cort, or Adelaide. Those are your choices, Gil."

Gil shook his head, lifting the gun.

"Choose yourself and they both die."

Gil stopped again, setting his jaw, "Russia you can't ask me to do this… please…"

"Oh, you're begging me now?" Russia almost laughed.

Gil aimed the gun at Russia, "And what if I kill you?" He heard the soldiers move behind him. He turned, seeing them aim at Margot and Gisela.

"You only get one choice," Russia repeated, his voice as cold as ice. "They're traitors, Gil. All of them. I should kill all of them. This is mercy."

Gil's breathing was hard, almost panicked. He looked into Cort's face.

"Don't hurt my sister!" Cort screamed, shaking his head, trying to struggle free from Russia.

He turned to look at Adelaide, who had let her head fall back down again. He could hear her crying, softly. She lifted her head slowly, letting her eyes meet his. Their spark was still there, but it wasn't mischief in her eyes. Tears spilled over her cheeks, and she smiled.

"It's okay…" she whispered, "It's ok I forgive you…" she looked down for a moment, pressing her lips together, trying to keep from sobbing. She looked back up at him, flicking her hair out of her face, sitting up tall, keeping her eyes fixed on his.

He shook his head, lifting the gun, aiming at her chest.

She shook her head, "No, not like that Gil…" She smiled again as he raised the gun higher, aiming at her head. She nodded, "There…" Tears almost choked her. She tried to keep them back, "Just like that…"

Gil looked back at Russia. He couldn't even manage to look at him with hate. His eyes begged. _Please… Please don't make me do this…_

"You have thirty seconds," Russia snapped, no emotion in his voice.

Gil closed his eyes, letting a few tears fall over his cheeks. He opened his eyes again, looking back down the sight of his pistol. He wouldn't miss, she deserved that. His hand shook, his breath catching in his chest. He couldn't steady his hand, "Russia please…" He whispered through tears and grit teeth.

"Twenty seconds."

"Gil, let him shoot me!" Cort sobbed.

Margot tried to push through the guards. They beat her down with the backs of their rifles. Gisela screamed, kneeling next to her mother, who didn't move.

"Ten seconds."

"Gil, NO!" Cort screamed.

Gil looked back into Adelaide's face, taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"It's ok, Gilbert…" Adelaide smiled, looking up at him, "It's okay I forgive you…"

"Five seconds."

Adelaide closed her eyes.

Gil fired.

"NO!" Cort screamed, struggling free from Russia, who let him go. He ran to his sister, lifting her face, trying to wipe away the blood. "Adie… no… no please no…" He wrapped his arms around her.

Gisela screamed trying to push past the soldiers. They let her run to her sister.

Gil stood there, his gun still raised, breathing hard and staring at her face. He closed his eyes, letting the tears fall down his cheeks. He pulled the gun back to his own head and fired.

* * *

A/N: *heavy sigh* Well, we knew this couldn't end happily, not for this family. Russia... why? Why are you such a monster? Why? And Gil doesn't even know if he actually would have shot Cort... what do you think? Also, being mad at Gil is allowed. He's certainly mad at himself... For pretty much the first time in the story he got some comfort... someone actually cared about him... and then... *sighs again*

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated. I especially love them on dark and depressing chapters like this. What your thoughts are... Extra hot cocoa and blankets are given to reviewers on this chapter. I think you guys will need them.


	28. Chapter 28: Recovering

Chapter 28

Slowly, Gil opened his eyes, feeling a cold cloth touching his face. He turned slowly, seeing Lithuania sitting next to his bed. He was back in Russia's mention, and in his own room. His head hurt terribly, which didn't surprise him. He looked into Lithuania's face.

"You're finally awake," Lithuania's voice was quiet, almost emotionless. He dipped the blood soaked cloth into the bowl of water sitting on the bedside table, and wrung it out, bringing it back to Gil's head, "Can you speak yet?"

Gil didn't reply. He couldn't move his head.

"It'll come back, just give it some time," Lithuania nodded with a deep sigh, "You've really made a mess of yourself, Gil."

Gil couldn't answer, so he closed his eyes. He couldn't look at Lithuania's face. He saw pity. He didn't want pity.

"So you've been using drugs?" Lithuania asked calmly, dabbing at the wound, which Estonia had already stitched.

Gil opened his eyes, frowning at Lithuania, confused.

Lithuania sighed, "Gil… your arm… it's bad." He touched it gently, tracing his fingers over Gil's right arm, where infected track marks were left raw and open, the bruising covering half his arm. "You need to stop doing this to yourself."

Gil tried to pull his arm away, barely managing to move his fingers.

There was silence for a moment. Lithuania laid a gauze on the larger wound in Prussia's head, wrapping a bandage around it carefully, covering the entry wound on the other side. He started cleaning up the medical supplies, returning it to the bag. He looked back at Gil, who's face held an almost numb expression.

Lithuania took a deep breath, "Russia told me what happened…" He looked down, unable to look at Gil's face as the white-haired country didn't react. He sighed again, "The rest of the family went over the wall in Russia's car. They're all right." He couldn't say they were fine. They were far from fine, he could guess that, but at least they were alive, and away from Russia. "I doubt you actually care, but… everything that happened bothered Ivan… he locked himself in his room when he brought you back from Berlin and I haven't seen him since. He said the word 'Alexei', which isn't a good thing." He shook his head and looked at Gil's face again, realizing how thin he was. He glanced down at Gil's arm, closing his eyes with a sigh.

"I'm not encouraging you in this… but…" Lithuania paused. He didn't want to offer it as an option, but he could see Gil barely hanging on, "Do you want me to give you something?"

Gil looked into Lithuania's face gratefully, smiling slightly. He still couldn't move enough to move his head.

Lithuania sighed, nodding, "Ok. But just this once. I'm not helping you with your… stupidity. You have to stop doing this, Gil."

Gil looked away again.

Lithuania sighed again, reaching into the medical bag and pulling out a syringe and some of the liquid painkillers. "Is one dose enough?" He knew it wouldn't be.

Gil smirked, exhaling in a dry half-laugh, looking up at Lithuania.

"Two doses?"

Gil looked away, biting his lip.

"Gil, how much are you taking?" Lithuania was worried now. Two doses were more than enough. "Three? A full syringe?"

Gil closed his eyes, setting his jaw and swallowing hard.

"You can't be taking more than that…"

Gil didn't reply, just looked up into Lithuania's face.

"Gil you can't! You're going to kill your-" He stopped, closing his eyes, sighing deeply, "Gil you have to stop. You may be immortal but… look at yourself… you can't keep doing this."

Gil looked away again.

Lithuania sighed, frustrated. Gil's thick head was annoying, and he couldn't figure out how to get through to him. "If Latvia finds out…"

Gil looked back at Lithuania, his eyes more afraid than angry. They begged Lithuania not to tell Latvia.

"I can't hide it from him if you keep taking that much. He'll figure it out. He knows more than most people think he does."

Gil looked away again, biting his lip. He didn't want Latvia to know.

Lithuania sighed deeply, "I'll give you two doses, but nothing more."

Gil mouthed the word 'okay', and looked back to Lithuania, watching him fill the syringe.

Lithuania shook his head. He didn't want to do this, but he wasn't sure Gil could function without it, especially if he was taking that much. He took Gil's left arm, avoiding the infected marks on his right. He took a band from the medical kit and tightened it around Gil's upper arm, tapping on the inside of his elbow, trying to find a vein. He slipped the needle into Gil's arm, watching the other country's face as he let the liquid into his blood.

Gil sighed deeply, relaxing, closing his eyes.

Lithuania shivered, pulling the syringe from Gil's arm, discarding the needle and replacing the supplies back into the medical bag, untying the band around Gil's arm. "I'm never doing that for you again. Ever." He stood, taking the medical bag with him. He glanced back at Gil, "I'll come back in a few hours. Try to sleep, it'll help you heal faster."

Gil nodded, smiling as he realized he could move his head a little, even if it was painful.

Lithuania sighed again, walking out of Gil's room, closing the door behind him. He went back to the medical closet and replaced the bag. He walked up to Russia's room, knocking on the door.

"Mr. Russia?" He asked, trying to sound braver than he felt. He tried not to shake. He hated being afraid of him.

Nothing.

He knocked again, "Mr. Russia? Are you all right?"

Still no answer.

He tried the door handle. It was unlocked, which surprised him. Russia never left the door unlocked. He paused for a moment, then opened the door. He ran to Russia's side as the giant country leaned against his desk, two empty bottles of vodka beside him, and a glass in his hand. He wasn't wearing his scarf or coat, just a plain grey tee shirt and his usual pants and boots. The coat was lying on the bed, and the scarf was crumpled on the ground beside the desk. Russia was leaning into his hand, and Lithuania could see his shoulders shaking. He put his hand on the man's shoulder, trying to look at his face, "Ivan?" He whispered, worried.

Russia lifted his head to look into Lithuania's face. His cheeks were soaked with tears, his eyes red and swollen from crying.

"Ivan…?" Lithuania asked again, gently, taking the glass from Russia's hand.

Russia brought both hands to his face, trying to control the tears.

"Come on, I'll help you to bed…"

Russia shook his head, pushing Lithuania's hands away, "No, I'm not that drunk…"

Lithuania glanced down at the two empty bottles beside Russia.

"I've been drinking all day," Russia explained, "I'm not that drunk."

Lithuania sighed, "Are you all right?" he glanced at Russia's neck, the scars clearly visible. Some of them were bleeding. "You were… scratching at them again…?" He sighed.

Russia nodded, lifting his head from his hands, resting his chin on his right fist. He sighed deeply.

"Do you want me to get bandages for them?"

"I have some in here," Russia shook his head.

Lithuania nodded, "Is there… anything I can do for you…?" He tried to hide the trembling that found it's way to his voice.

Russia was silent for a moment, "When I got home today with GDR…" he paused, seeing Lithuania shaking. "You're shaking." He took one of the country's hands, letting it go as he saw him wince. "Did I hurt you today? When I got home?"

Lithuania looked away, nodding.

"Let me see."

Lithuania lifted his face again, his eyes begging Russia not to make him show him. He'd been forced to show Russia his back so many times just so the country could admire his work.

"Please, Myshka…" Russia's voice wasn't triumphant or angry.

Lithuania sighed, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. He pulled it over his shoulder, exposing the deep bruises Russia had left across his skin. He winced as Russia touched the marks, his hand surprisingly gentle.

"I did this to you?" Russia looked up at him, concerned.

Lithuania nodded, "But I'm fine." He pulled the shirt back over the dark purple marks.

"I'm so sorry, Myshka…" Russia turned away, shaking his head.

"I know," Lithuania stood, trying to hide his shaking hands in his pockets. "I'll get those bandages for you." He walked to the side closet in Russia's room and took the bandages and a cloth from the shelf. He walked back to Russia, who allowed him to kneel next to him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tie for his hair, pulling it into a low ponytail at the base of his neck. He sighed again, taking the cloth and reaching up to Russia's neck. He cleaned the blood off the scars and started to wrap the bandages around his neck.

Russia barely moved, letting Lithuania help him.

"Myshaka…?" Russia asked finally as Lithuania finished tucking the end of the bandage behind his neck.

"Yes?" Lithuania asked, picking up the extra medical supplies to return to the closet in the room. He shivered at the nickname a little. He'd grown used to it, especially during Russia's few sane moments, but he still didn't like it.

"Do you hate me?"

Lithuania paused. He'd never been asked that before, not by Russia himself. He looked into the giant country's face, and shook his head, "No. No, I don't."

"Spasiba… thank you…" Russia whispered, resting his head in his right hand again. He motioned Lithuania away with his left, "Now go. Leave me alone."

"Do you need anyth-"

"I said go," Russia almost snapped.

Lithuania didn't need to be told again. He walked out the door quickly, glancing back at the room. He rarely saw Russia like that anymore, it was almost comforting to know it was still there, somewhere.

…

Lithuania walked back into his room to find Poland curled up on his bed. He stepped towards the bed, stopping as Poland sat up, scrambling away, pressing himself to the headboard until he recognized Lithuania.

"Oh… Liet… it's just you…" Poland's voice trembled. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, looking away.

Lithuania sighed, walking up to the bed and sitting at the end of it. He didn't want to get too close to Poland. He didn't want to scare him.

"You can, like, come closer if you want," Poland's words were a little steadier, but Lithuania could see him shaking.

"It's ok, I don't have to," Lithuania smiled at him kindly.

"You can though…" Poland looked away, laying his head on his knees.

Lithuania understood. Poland wasn't going to ask him. He slid closer to the weak country but didn't touch him.

There was a long pause, as Lithuania just looked at Poland. His heart ached to see his childhood friend like that. He'd cried for Poland a few times, and he tried to keep back tears now. He looked so small, so weak, so thin. The black numbers on the blond's arm sent a weight into Lithuania's chest. He hated them. He hated what they stood for, and what they meant had happened. He looked away for a moment, trying to keep the tears back. He felt Poland's hand slip under his on the bed as the little country moved to sit beside him, resting on his shoulder. The weight of Poland's head was painful against the bruises, but he didn't care. He sighed, resting his own head on top of Poland's.

"Felek?" He whispered, concerned.

"Hmm?" Poland said, his voice tired.

"Are you all right?" he knew the answer but needed to ask anyway.

Poland sighed, "I don't like my room… it's dark and cold… just like…" he didn't need to say it, "I don't like being alone…"

Lithuania squeezed Poland's hand, "Do you want to stay here?"

Poland nodded without speaking. Slowly, he lifted his head to look at Lithuania, "Can I? Like, are you sure?" His voice was worried, but his eyes held the tiniest sliver of hope.

Lithuania smiled, nodding gently. He hadn't seen any kind of spark in Poland's eyes since the war. They'd always looked so cold, so dead, but the bright green eyes looking up at him had a tiny spark back. He was healing.

"Do you want me to sleep on the floor?" Lithuania offered.

Poland looked down, then back up at Lithuania. "You… could stay next to me? Just…" He trembled again, "Don't touch me? Please…?"

Lithuania nodded, squeezing Poland's hand again, "Okay. As long as it won't… hurt you."

Poland shook his head, "You won't. I trust you, Liet," he smiled, looking into Lithuania's face again.

Lithuania smiled, standing, letting go of Poland's hand.

Poland gasped, grabbing Lithuania's hand again, standing next to him, shaking, "Don't let go…"

Lithuania turned back to Poland, looking into his face, "It's ok. I just need to change… I'll be right in there," he nodded to the bathroom, "Don't worry. It's okay."

Poland swallowed hard, nodding. He let go of Lithuania's hand and wrapped his arms around himself, pressing his fingers into his bare skin.

Lithuania noticed for the first time that Poland was only wearing shorts, "Are you cold?"

Poland didn't respond for a moment, then nodded.

Lithuania led him to his dresser, where he took out sweatpants and a tee shirt for himself and motioned to the drawer. "Anything you want," he smiled at Poland, who looked up at him gratefully.

Lithuania took the clothes into his bathroom and changed. When he returned to his room Poland was sitting on the bed again, wearing sweatpants that were a little too big, and a pink tee shirt. The only one Lithuania owned. He smiled, almost laughing, and sat beside Poland.

"I didn't know you still had this…" Poland looked down at the tee shirt, then back up at Liet, the slightest ghost of a smile on his lips.

Lithuania smiled, "Well you gave it to me! Of course I still have it."

"It has ponies on it..." Poland whispered, the tiny smile still on his face.

Lithuania noticed, trying to hold back his excitement. He didn't want to push Poland too far, but it was the first time he'd seen anything like happiness on Poland's face since the war started. An idea sparked in his mind suddenly, "Felek?" he grinned.

"Tak (yes)?" Poland looked up at him, nervous until he saw Lithuania's smile.

"Would you like me to brush your hair?"

A big, real, smile found it's way to Poland's face. His eyes sparkled, "R-really?"

Lithuania nodded, "Really," his voice caught.

"Okay," Poland brushed tears away from his eyes with his wrist.

Lithuania smiled, almost running into the bathroom to grab his brush, returning to sit beside Poland, who turned his back to him slowly, trembling again. Lithuania reached forward and touched Poland's hair gently.

Poland winced hard, leaning forward, wrapping his arms around his head with a soft cry of pain. "Please…" He whispered, crying.

Lithuania set the brush down, kneeling on the floor beside Poland, trying to pull the blond's arms away from his face, "Felek, it's me. It's just me. It's ok… It's ok I'm right here…"

Poland looked up into Lithuania's face, wrapping his arms around his neck, sobbing on his shoulder, letting himself slide off the bed onto the ground beside Lithuania, clinging to him.

Lithuania held him. "Sh… sh… I'm right here."

Poland's breathing slowed, and he relaxed, brushing the tears from his cheeks. He turned away, "I'm sorry…" He shook his head, "I'm a mess…I can't even…" He glanced back up at the brush and reached up to run his fingers through his hair, almost grabbing onto it.

There was silence for a moment as Lithuania looked Poland, wondering if he would continue. "They… they cut it didn't they?" he sighed. He didn't want to think about it.

Poland closed his eyes, biting his lips inside his mouth. He nodded, then looked back up.

Lithuania sighed, the spark was gone. Poland's eyes looked dead again. He didn't speak, waiting for Poland to say something.

"I…" Poland looked down for a moment, then back up at Lithuania. There was a little bit of fight in his eyes, "I want to try again…" He reached onto the bed and grabbed the brush, "If you want to…"

Lithuania nodded with a smile, taking the brush from Poland's hand. He stood, helping Poland stand, and sat behind him on the bed. He watched as Poland turned his back to him, trembling.

"It's ok," Lithuania put his hand on Poland's shoulder gently.

Poland nodded, still shaking.

Lithuania reached up and gently touched Poland's hair.

Poland winced, biting back tears, but nodded.

Lithuania sighed, but gently brought the brush to the bright blond hair, trying to be as gentle as possible. He could see Poland was crying, "Are you all right?"

Poland nodded, brushing the tears away, "Tak…"

As Lithuania ran the brush through Poland's hair he saw the little blond relax, the tears stopping. Poland's hair was matted and knotted. Lithuania doubted he brushed it often, if at all. It needed it. He couldn't help but wonder when the last time Poland had actually been touched with kindness was. When the last time someone had taken care of him was. He'd been trying, but Poland had always pushed him away before. He brought the brush through the last few strands of blonde hair, smiling as the brush revealed no more tangles. He set the brush down, and smiled, resting his hand on Poland's shoulder.

"There," Lithuania smiled, "Done."

Poland turned to look at him with a grateful smile, a real smile, "Thanks, Liet."

Lithuania grinned, seeing the smile on Poland's face brought the choke back into his throat. He tried to swallow it.

Poland slid to the other side of the bed and wrapped himself in the blankets, laying down.

Lithuania smiled, pulling the remaining covers over himself, being careful not to touch Poland. "Good night, Felek."

"Night, Liet." Poland smiled again, barely, but it was there.

Lithuania closed his eyes, starting to drift to sleep. He smiled, feeling Poland's hand on his.

"Liet?" Poland whispered, his voice trembling again.

"Hmm?" Lithuania asked, more than half asleep.

"I… if I wake you up… I'm sorry…"

"Nightmares?" Lithuania felt Poland nod. "It's ok," he smiled gently, "Don't worry about it," he squeezed Poland's hand gently.

"Okay…" Poland whispered, squeezing Lithuania's hand back. He slept through the whole night.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter that's mainly not from Gil's perspective! I like writing for Lithuania too. This chapter is basically him helping everyone who needs it the most in this house. XD He's trying not to be mad at Gil, who's still recovering obviously, and the 'relationship' (non-ship guys!) with Russia is an interesting one. He doesn't hate Russia, even though he half wants to. He knows way too much about Russia to hate him. And Poland, poor little Poland. Psychologically speaking, Poland made a HUGE step forward by letting Liet brush his hair. Hopefully, I've made my ship for Liet clear with Belarus, but Poland and Lithuania are (or at least were) best friends since childhood. Lithuania takes care of people, especially his best friend. And Poland needs it. This chapter was fun to write, and we actually get some sweetness for a change! This is my gift to you all after the last chapter...

Reviewers are given hugs and cookies and cocoa! Thank you all for reviewing the last chapter. I'm sorry (not sorry) that I broke you all. I cried writing the last chapter actually. For those of you wondering if we'll ever see that family again... *refuses to give information because I haven't decided yet* Thank you all for being such loyal readers!

I am going on vacation for the rest of today and tomorrow, so I probably won't be posting a chapter tomorrow, but hopefully, you will all forgive me because this chapter is adorable/sweet instead of traumatizing. :)


	29. Chapter 29: Breaking

Chapter 29

Gil opened his eyes, then closed them immediately with a groan. He smiled a little, happy his vocal chords were working again. He'd missed them. Not being able to talk wasn't the most pleasant thing he'd ever experienced. He tried opening his eyes again, failing. The room was too bright, the sun coming in through the window and shining on his face. He tried to move and was able to turn his head away from the window, though only slowly. He could move his hands and arms a little. Again, he opened his eyes. They met Russia's. He jumped, glancing down at his arms. He was wearing long sleeves.

 _Liet!_ He realized, more grateful than he could express. Russia couldn't know. He didn't know what would happen if he found out, but he knew it would be painful. He looked up at Russia again, saying nothing.

"How are you feeling, Ptitska?" Russia asked kindly, sitting back in a chair he had pulled next to Gil's bed. "You scared me."

He didn't have the strength to laugh, so he just looked away. The light pierced into his eyes again, and he shut them, wincing, turning away, his eyes watering in the light. He looked up at Russia, breathing harder, angry.

"Schei-"

"Nyet!" Russia stopped him, giving him an angry glare, "There's no need for that."

Gil set his jaw. He wished he couldn't talk. Everything he had to say involved words he doubted Russia would allow him to use. He turned away again, remembering to close his eyes this time.

"I knew you'd slept with her but…" Russia's voice different this time. It wasn't cold. It wasn't angry. It was…sad? "But I didn't know you loved her…"

"I didn't," Gil replied, turning to look straight up at the ceiling, refusing to look at Russia.

"Don't lie to me," Russia snapped.

"I'm not," Gil shook his head, still not looking at Russia, "She was good in bed and had information. That's all. She meant nothing to me."

Russia grabbed his face, turning it towards his, gripping tighter until Gil looked into his eyes, "Tell me you didn't love her."

Gil shook his head again, "I didn't."

Russia let go of his face, looking down at him with a dry laugh, then turned back to him, more serious, "Then tell me why you turned the gun on yourself."

"She meant nothing to me, but I care about her little brother." He decided not to lie.

Russia smiled, "He's a very sweet boy… too bad you broke him."

Gil turned away.

"He didn't speak the whole drive across the wall, except to say that he hated me. All he did was cry." The cold words stung Russia as he said them. He shook it off. He didn't want to think about Cort's face, covered in his sister's blood. It was too close. Too familiar. "You haven't answered me yet. If you felt nothing for the girl, why shoot yourself?"

"Because now Cort thinks I'm dead," Gil said flatly, trying to keep emotion out of his voice.

Russia smiled, "You're smarter than you look, you know."

Gil shrugged, still not looking at Russia, "What did you do with her body?"

"So you did like her?"

Gil shook his head, "She was my kill, I deserve to know," he swallowed back the sick feeling in his stomach.

"Her family took it over the wall with them."

Gil forced himself not to smile in relief. He only nodded.

"Oh, your brother was there," Russia smiled.

Gil turned to him instantly, "He was?"

Russia smiled still, "Da. He was there to meet the family."

Gil's heart dropped, "W-what does he know about…?"

"He knows what happened. Cort told him, actually. West Germany asked what happened. Cort told him that 'a soldier named Gilbert Beilschmidt' killed her, and then himself."

Gil winced internally, "What… what did he say?" he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Nothing," Russia shook his head, "but the look on his face…"

Gil turned away, closing his eyes, forcing himself to ignore the choke in his throat. His breath caught.

"He knows what you are now, Gil."

"What what am I?" Gil snapped through grit teeth. He could feel Russia's smile boring through him.

"You're like me."

Gil shivered, turning away. _He thinks that? That I'm like Russia? That I'm… a monster?_ He forced himself to keep the tears back.

"I've killed lots of people I cared about, and even more than I didn't. Do you think I cried when they killed the Tsar and his family?" He laughed, shaking his head, forcing the rebelling voice in his mind to keep quiet, "Of course not. They deserved it. Adelaide deserved it. You did the right thing, GDR." Russia reached over and touched the wound on Gil's head, petting his hair.

Gil shivered again, unable to move away from Russia's hand. "If I'm like you…" he whispered, his voice shaking, "Then tell me… how do you live with it?" he closed his eyes.

"Oh, Ptitska…" Russia sighed, putting his hand on Gil's shoulder, trying to be kind, "You stop feeling. You stop feeling anything… everything. Then nothing can hurt you."

Gil looked up at him, trembling, "How? Please…"

"It took me a long time…" Russia shook his head.

"Then hurt me," Gil kept his eyes on Russia's.

"What?" Russia brought his hand away from Gil's shoulder, confused.

"I have to pay for it… I can't… I have pay for it…" He shook his head, turning away again, trying to fight the tears that insisted on spilling over his cheeks. He hated them. They felt weak. He needed to feel strong again.

"You already paid for it, you joined me. You turned communist, Gil…" Russia looked at him, still confused, almost upset.

Gil turned to look at him again.

Russia shivered. The pain in Gil's eyes was enough to disturb him. He looked away.

"Break me," Gil whispered, his voice hot with anger, but choked with tears. "I want you to break me until there's nothing left. Until I can't feel anything anymore… until every scrap of…" He swallowed back the tears, "Until every scrap of Prussia is gone… I can't…" He looked away, shaking his head, "I can't do it… It hurts… it hurts, I can't…"

Russia stood, looking down at Gil, shaking his head, "You don't know what you're asking…" he winced, closing his eyes, memories flashing in front of him, "You're not… healed enough yet…"

Gil looked up at Russia. A new expression was written on the bigger country's face. One Gil hadn't seen before. It was almost like fear. "I know what I'm saying…" Gil shook his head, "I've broken men before… a lot of them… and I want you to break me," he whispered the last few words, his voice cracking. He looked away.

Russia shook his head, taking a step away from the bed, "GDR… you don't have to-"

"Yes, I do." There were no more tears. Tears were too weak.

Russia stared at him for a moment, wincing again, then walked quickly out of the room without another word.

Gil watched him go, closing his eyes, then opening them again, the images behind them were too painful. He glanced at the bedside table, wondering if Lithuania had found the drugs he'd hidden in it. He tried to reach for the drawer, but he could barely move his arms. He couldn't get to it. He jumped as Lithuania ran into the room, worried.

"What did you say to Ivan?"

"What are you talking about?" Gil turned away. The sun was going down behind the hill out his window. It didn't burn his eyes anymore.

"What did you say?" Lithuania walked up to the bed, his voice shaking.

Gil said nothing for a moment.

"Gil?" Lithuania almost snapped, "I haven't seen him like that since-"

"I asked him to break me," Gil said, his tone void of emotion.

"You… what…?" Lithuania took a step back, then reached forward, putting the back of his hand on Gil's forehead. "You're still sick…"

Gil pulled his head away from Lithuania's hand, "I can't do this anymore, Toris… I can't… everything I've done… I can't…"

Lithuania said nothing. He wasn't sure he had an argument, "Gil… there are other ways to heal… don't… you don't know what you're asking him to do…" _But I do_

"Yes, I do…" Gil whispered, his voice breaking again, "Because I did it to Poland…"

Lithuania said nothing. He wasn't sure if he wanted Gil to continue, or if he wanted to force him to be quiet.

Gil turned to Lithuania again, looking up into his face, "And I enjoyed doing it."

Lithuania breathed harder, anger rising into his chest. He looked away, trying to calm down.

"Can you imagine having to live with that?" Gil shook his head.

Lithuania said nothing, still turned away from Gil.

"Look at me," Gil whispered.

Lithuania didn't.

"I said 'look at me'."

Lithuania obeyed, almost instinctively. Gil's tone was more like Russia's than his own voice.

"Do you know what I did to Poland, did he tell you?"

"Yes-"

"Did he tell you how much he cried? How much I enjoyed that?" Gil grit his teeth, tears spilling over his cheeks.

"Gil…" Lithuania closed his eyes.

"Look at me!"

Lithuania obeyed.

"He begged me. He begged me to stop. And when he did, I kicked harder. Did he tell you about the barbed wire? I struck harder when he cried. He was easier to hurt. He begged me to stop. He didn't have anything to tell me, and I knew it. They sent me to make him suffer and I did."

"Gil stop…" Lithuania's voice caught.

"He cried for you… begged for you…"

"Stop it!"

"He screamed for you when I put that mark on his cheek…"

"Gil, please stop! Please…" Lithuania begged, an angry sob escaping his lips, his breathing hard with anger and pain.

"There… now you know what I am… and what I have to live with," Gil looked up at Lithuania, then turned away. He couldn't watch him cry.

Lithuania set his jaw, shaking with anger. He inhaled slowly, trembling, and spoke, his voice sharp, "I hope Russia kills you…"

"Good," Gil said, keeping his face away from Lithuania, "Maybe now you won't try and rescue me."

Lithuania turned back to Gil, suddenly realizing what he'd been trying to do. "You want to make me hate you…"

"Is it working?"

Lithuania didn't answer.

"Tell Russia about the drugs, and I'll tell Latvia all about your scars," Gil's voice was cold.

"You said he already knows about-"

"He hasn't seen them," Gil's voice shook as he tried to force it to sound angry. He hated this. He hated what he was doing to Lithuania, "I'll make sure he sees them."

Lithuania took a step back from the bed, "Are you… threatening me?"

"Aren't you used to it?" Gil snapped. It was the most cutting thing he could think of to say.

Lithuania winced, turning away from Gil. He knew what the other country was trying to do, but it was still working. "He was right…" he whispered.

"Who was right?"

"Latvia," Lithuania's voice trembled.

"Right about what?" Gil turned to look at Lithuania, who had turned to face the door.

"He said you were going to become just like Russia…" Lithuania walked towards the door, then stopped, looking back at Gil. "Looks like he was right." He walked through the door, almost slamming it behind.

Gil closed his eyes, letting the tears fall, letting himself sob. He hated it. All of it. But if Lithuania didn't hate him, he knew he would try to save him, try to protect him. He had to hate him. If he didn't hate him then he'd try to hold on. He didn't want to hold on. He didn't want to be himself anymore. He wanted to be GDR. No more Prussia. That part of him needed to die, and he couldn't kill himself alone.

* * *

A/N: And we're back to our regular dark programming... *sigh* Gil is NOT doing well. He's not doing well AT ALL. He's smart enough to know that he needs Lithuania to stop taking care of him in order for his plan to work, but Lithuania is smart enough to see right through it... even though it still bothers him. Especially since he spent the entirety of the night before taking care of Poland. Gil though... he's losing it. He's slipping. And he doesn't want to be Prussia anymore. *Cries* But... can he ever really get rid of that side of himself? And Russia... another different side of Russia. Russia doesn't want to break Gil down like that... hmm... any thoughts/comments on Russia in this chapter are appreciated! (Also on Gil's slipping sanity of course) Also... Liet is a freaking saint... but he's still pretty ticked with Gil. But will he stop protecting him?

Historically, GDR did side with Russia entirely. They were a VERY dedicated communist satellite... so historically Gil's request, and his trying to get as far away from what he was in WWII as possible, is accurate. I've gotten a few comments about accuracy so I'll address them! I think that there are two sides to these characters. There's the country side of them, and the human side of them. Such as: obviously not everyone in GDR started doing drugs, but Gil, the human side of him, is taking drugs because he can't deal with what he's done. The actual only bigger 'inaccuracy' in this story is that Poland and GDR actually got along quite well. as Poland saw GDR turning communist as proof that it was getting away from the Nazism from the war. In this story, their governments are getting along fine, but Gil and Feliks are NOT (obviously). Another part of the country vs the human sides of them. They aren't their government and do act somewhat independently of them towards the other nations. As far as the timeline goes... well... everything that I've specifically mentioned happening, did happen, though much of it didn't happen until many, MANY years after WWII. I'm squishing history together quite a bit for narrative purposes. In-story it's only 5-6 years post-WWII, though I've mentioned quite a few events that didn't take place until the 60's (including, obviously, the wall itself) There we go! I hope that clears up some of the confusion! I am trying to make this as accurate of a story as I can, without sacrificing drama. History is very dramatic though, so it's not too hard. :) Really just speeding up history is all I'm doing. :) I hope that clears up some confusion! Thank you to so much who cares about history enough to mention the accuracy factor! I love you guys! Thank you so much for caring about history! :D :D :D

As always, reviewers are given cookies (how about Oatmeal cookies? Those are good! One of my favorites! Especially when they're soft and chewy. YUM) and a big glass of milk! 3 Thank you all so much for your dedicated reviews! :D Special Thanks to CheesecakeKittyCat, EllaAwkward, and Kattie. You guys have been reviewing almost every chapter! Thank you so so so so so much! I love reading your reviews! (*gives extra cookies*) Thank you also to all the brand new Guest reviewers who have been commenting! I'm so glad you're here! (*gives extra cookies*) Thank you all for reading what ended up being another very long Author's Notes... XD


	30. Chapter 30: Winter

Chapter 30

Gil pressed his cheek against the cold stone floor. Russia had dragged him out of bed and kicked him down the stairs as soon as he knew he could stand on his own. He was still wearing the long-sleeved grey shirt that Lithuania had given him, and loose black sweatpants. At least Russia hadn't tied him up this time. Sleep deprivation. The first step. It wasn't original, but it was effective. He rolled over onto his back, looking up at the stone ceiling.

He gasped suddenly, seeing Adelaide over him, feeling her hands on his skin. He reached up to touch her face, but the image faded away. He cried out as the memory of her face, dripping with blood from his shot, came into focus. He stood, stepping back, trying to force the image away. He looked down at his right arm, covered by the sleeve. It'd been almost two days. He needed more.

He looked around the room again, pressing himself against the back wall. He pulled away from it, feeling it move against his back.

Nothing.

He covered his eyes with both hands, trying to calm down. He jumped suddenly, hearing a sound by the door.

Nothing.

He shook his head, trying to get the images to go away, trying to make the screaming stop. He closed his eyes but it didn't help. He opened them again, feeling Adelaide's hands, her cheek against his. He breathed faster, then pushed himself back into the wall as he felt cold hands on his skin and Adelaide was gone. He tried to push them away from him, gasping for breath as almost unbearable pressure attacked his lungs. He fell to the ground, the feeling slowly fading. He covered his mouth, the smell of burning skin overwhelming him again. He looked down at his own legs, trying to kick away the flames that leaped at his legs.

He screamed memories he'd dealt with hundreds of years before clinging to his mind. He covered his mouth again, the smell worse than before. He shook his head, trying to push the images away. He looked up to see the same four figures he'd seen in Berlin. two men, one woman, and one child, all painfully thin. They held each other's hands. Gil forced himself to look up into their faces. They weren't angry. They were sad, tears in their eyes. He looked down. He couldn't look at them. Tears filled his eyes.

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" he whispered, looking back up. They were gone.

He covered his ears, hearing Poland's screams. They faded as Adelaide touched his face, smiling at him, her other hand gripping his back. She faded away before he could reach to touch her, everything fading with her.

Prussia fell to his knees, gasping for breath, gripping his chest, he couldn't breathe. He winced, panic invading his mind. He couldn't breathe. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to steady his breathing, trying to force his mind to think. He closed his eyes and let himself pass out.

He opened his eyes. Everything hurt. He sat up slowly, the muscles in his arms tensing. He winced, lifting his hands. They shook. He glanced towards the door, wincing again. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time it beat so fast. He clutched at his chest, unable to breathe normally. He looked around the room. It looked like it was moving. He winced, gasping, pressing himself back against the wall as he saw shadows pass over the walls. He shook his head, closing his eyes, bringing his hands to his ears, trying to block everything out. His heart pounded still. He couldn't breathe. He looked towards the giant grey door. He stood, shaking, his legs cramping. He knelt by the door and pounded on it, praying someone would hear him.

"Russia!?" he screamed. Anyone, even Russia. He couldn't take it. "LIET!?"

He pounded his fists against the door, finally pressing his forehead against it, his throat too sore to scream anymore. His heartbeat hadn't slowed, and his breath still caught in his throat. He tried to slow it, tried to take deep breaths. He jumped suddenly as the handle of the door unlocked and turned. He pressed himself back against the side wall, shivering, looking at the door, expecting to see Russia. It was Lithuania.

Lithuania took one look at him and sighed, "You need the drugs don't you?"

Gil nodded, pressing his shaking hands into his face, bringing his knees to his chest. He looked up, "Liet please… please…"

Lithuania sighed again. He looked away. He could barely look at Gil. The white-haired country was a mess.

"Toris please…" Gil looked up at him, closing his eyes.

"I said I'd never do it again…"

"Then don't, just give it to me, I'll do it! Please, Liet!" he begged.

Lithuania turned away. He hated it. He hated seeing Gil so weak, so needy. He shuddered. Russia would love finding him like that, afraid, begging… he couldn't do that to Gil, no matter how angry with him he was. He shivered again and looked back at Gil. "Okay." He said, walking out and closing the door behind him.

Gil breathed a sigh of relief, which caught in his throat again. He couldn't breathe. He clutched his chest. He needed the drugs. He wanted them. The urge so strong it felt like it was killing him. When Lithuania opened the door with the medical supplies, he practically jumped on him to get to them. He pulled out the syringe and needle, filling the syringe with the painkillers and shooting it into his arm. He let his head fall back, his breathing slowing. He could feel his heart relaxing, steadying back to its normal pace.

Lithuania shuddered again. He looked away. He didn't want to see how much Gil was taking. He couldn't watch him kill himself.

Gil filled another syringe-full of the liquid his body had grown to need, and slipped the needle into his vein, pressing down, releasing the drug. He relaxed more, feeling it start to clear his mind from the memories he couldn't handle, even the good ones. There wasn't enough in the small bottle for another full syringe, so it took what was left and shot it into his blood. He looked up at Liet finally, almost out of breath.

"Danke schön, Toris…" He whispered, handing the supplies back to Lithuania, who turned just in time to see Gil rolling down his sleeve.

Lithuania caught a glimpse of Gil's arm and closed his eyes again with a heavy sigh. "You know you're going to have to stop eventually…" Lithuania took the empty bottle from Gil's hands. He winced. It had been full when he'd brought it down. _A whole bottle? Gil…_

"I know," Gil whispered, "I know… but I need it right now. I can stop. Later. I'll be fine. I'll lower the dose as I go, I promise."

Lithuania didn't believe a word of it but nodded anyway.

"I thought I made you hate me?" Gil whispered, leaning back, his whole body starting to relax as the high from the drug started to set in as the world blurred.

"No," Lithuania said simply. He was angry, sure, but he didn't hate Gil. He didn't hate anyone. "Are you…" he paused, "Are you still asking Russia to… break you?" he hated saying it.

Gil nodded.

"Before you do… there's something you should see." Lithuania sighed, "It's why I'm here. To show you."

"What?" Gil looked up at him, slowly standing with Lithuania's help.

"Russia's boss… the reason Russia's so cruel…" Lithuania sighed, "As far as I know, I'm the only one who knows about this, so if you tell Russia we're both dead, got it?"

Gil nodded, and let Lithuania lead him into one of the other rooms, this time, the one with the black door. The keyhole could be peeked through. Gil gasped.

Russia was shirtless, scarf-less, and bound to the wall by chains long enough to allow access to his back if he was pulled forward. His bosses and several officers stood around him. And one giant of a man, wearing a uniform. He was holding a whip. Gil tried to see more. Russia's back dripped with blood. His face was triumphant, not scared. Gil shuddered. He winced as the whip crashed on Russia's broken back, hard. Russia barely flinched, though the strike drew blood. He saw the giant in the black uniform smile, and walk up to Russia. He pat his face with a giant smile, which was returned by Russia. He said something in Russian that Gil didn't understand. He looked up to Lithuania, hoping for a translation.

Lithuania whispered, "He said 'You've done well, little snowflake. You're getting stronger.'" Lithuania bit his lip.

"Who is he?" Gil tried to keep his voice quiet.

"Who?" Lithuania leaned in closer to Gil, trying to get a look through the keyhole. He froze, standing, pulling away from the keyhole.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Gil asked, trembling a little himself.

Lithuania's body shook with fear, he tried to steady it, "Usually it's just Russia's bosses… but…" He bit his lip, trying to regain composure, "That's… General Winter."

Gil knew the name from the war, but he'd never seen him. He saw how badly Lithuania was shaking. Worse than he'd ever seen him in front of Russia.

"You're afraid of him?" Gil whispered still.

"Everyone is…" Lithuania winced, "Even Russia's afraid of him…"

"Is that why?" Gil motioned towards the door.

Lithuania shook his head, "You'll… you'll see…"

Gil looked back through the keyhole, hearing chains rattling. They were letting Russia free. General Winter clapped him into a hug, patting the still bleeding marks on Russia's back. Russia smiled at him, without so much as a wince, let alone a cry of pain. Gil shivered as General Winter pulled out a knife. He saw a glimmer of fear in Russia's eyes, then the smile was back on his face. They exchanged a few words in Russian. Gil looked back up to Lithuania.

"General Winter asked if Russia wants to 'prove himself' and 'how strong he's become'."

"And Russia?" Gil trembled now too.

"Russia agreed…" Lithuania closed his eyes, sitting opposite Gil, leaning against the hallway door. He kept listening. "He just warned Russia that if he makes a sound he'll…" Lithuania winced, "I didn't quite catch it… but I'm sure it's not good." He shook his head.

Gil turned back to the keyhole, staring.

Russia took the knife with a smile and a nod. He put it to his chest, and drove it into himself, cutting down, setting his jaw. He didn't make a sound. Once the cut was deep enough he dropped the knife.

"What is he…?" Gil whispered, more to himself than to Lithuania.

Russia reached into the cut and pulled something out of his chest.

 _His heart…_ Gil shuddered. He felt sick.

Russia smiled, panting hard, but still making no sound. Blood dripped down his arm as he held his still beating heart. He laid it in General Winter's hand.

Gil had to force himself not to look away as General Winter brought the heart to his mouth, and bit down, hard. He looked back to Russia, who opened his mouth like he was screaming in agony, but didn't make a sound. The bigger country fell to his knees, tears of pain falling from his eyes. He looked up at General Winter, who knelt beside him, slipping the heart back into Russia's chest and patting Russia's cheek with the bloody hand, wiping it in the country's hair. Again, he spoke in Russian. Gil couldn't make it out and turned back to Lithuania.

Lithuania looked at Gil, still shaking, and translated the words he heard. "'You've done well, little snowflake. This winter will be hard, but you'll survive. No extra pain for you, you kept quiet…'" Lithuania shivered, shaking his head, "Russia replied with 'I'm glad you're pleased with me'…" Lithuania looked down, wincing. He sighed, looking back up to Gil.

"What?" Gil asked, confused.

"Russia called him 'father'." Lithuania shook his head, wincing again.

Gil shuddered but looked back. Russia shook with what he could only assume was pain, but there was a giant grin on his face as General Winter helped him to his feet.

"We should go…" Lithuania nodded to Gil to follow him. "I'll have to lock you back in," he explained as they reached the grey door.

Gil nodded back, "I understand…" He was still disturbed by what he'd seen.

"I wanted you to see that…" Lithuania sighed, "Because I need you to understand. Russia isn't always the monster he pretends to be… but General Winter is. Russia has moments of sanity, but… General Winter is just cruel." Lithuania shivered.

"Are…" Gil wasn't sure he should ask, "Are any of your scars from him?"

Lithuania nodded, "Once… he… he helped Russia once…" he shuddered, wincing.

Gil didn't say anything, Lithuania's reaction to even thinking about it answered all the questions he had. "Liet…?" He asked as Lithuania turned to leave.

"Yes?" Lithuania looked back at him, still trembling. Just knowing General Winter was in the house was enough to shake him.

"If I need more drugs…"

Lithuania sighed deeply, "I don't want to do this for you, Gil… I can't. I can't do that for you."

Gil nodded, "Ok…"

Lithuania nodded back, and stepped out of the room, locking the door behind him.

* * *

A/N: So... Gil during withdrawal... not good. And Liet doesn't really want to help with that... (understandably) And... General Winter is here. And he's... evil. Russia isn't evil I think. Not really. But General Winter... he's evil. Evil and cold and unfeeling. Hence what he does to Russia. In my own idea, this is a yearly occurrence for Russia. If he makes any noise, at all, General Winter will hurt him more, cause extra damage, extra pain for him. So Russia did well this year. This also... maybe... explains why his heart falls out sometimes? To anyone thinking this scene is kinda weird... I agree. Very violent, but very weird. But in the show, Russia's heart falls out. Since this isn't a 'cute' story... he cuts it out. Sometimes more than others, for varying reasons. And this is one of them.

Reviewers are first given water, as this might have made your stomachs turn... and then cookies and milk! (M&M cookies this time!)


	31. Chapter 31: Stand

Chapter 31

Prussia lifted his head as Russia walked into the room. He looked into the violet eyes for a moment, then down at bigger country's gloved hands. His left held barbed-wire, chains, and a whip, and in his right, he carried his pipe. Prussia looked up into the country's face. His eyes were sad. There was no anger, no spark of rage. Prussia bit his lip. He needed Russia to be angry.

"Are you sure about this, GDR?" Russia's voice was low, sad.

Prussia nodded, looking up into the violet eyes, "I'm sure."

Russia sighed deeply, "I'm not angry with you for what you did in Berlin, Ptitska…" he shook his head, his eyes almost pleading with Gil, "I don't want to do this… I don't like hurting you."

"You like hurting Lithuania."

"I don't like hurting anyone. Sometimes it's necessary, but I never enjoy it."

"Like hell you don't," Prussia set his jaw. Russia wasn't angry. He needed him to be angry.

"Why do you think that of me?" Russia shook his head, looking down at Prussia.

Prussia stood. He had to make Russia angry, "Because you're a freak. Because I've seen the way you look at the others. I've seen what you did to Lithuania's back. I've seen the way the Baltics shiver when you walk into the room…" he stopped. It wasn't working. He was hurting Russia, not making him angry. He stopped closer to Russia, trying to get as much anger into his voice as he could, "You're a monster! You're a monster and I hate you! Everything you've done to me! Everything you've done to West! Everything your soldiers did to _my people_ during the war," he didn't have to force the anger, and he didn't have to lie, "You destroyed us. And you enjoyed it! You loved it when you shot me in Berlin, and kicked me to the ground. Well, you don't own me! I am _Prussia_ , not GDR, and I am so much more awesome than you! You just wish you had real power, real nobility to claim. You stole your power. Your Tzars stole it from your people, and now you steal it with blood! Does it make you feel powerful? Hurting people? You're just a f***** monster!" He raised his left hand, clenching it into a fist, swinging it at Russia's face.

Russia caught Prussia's hand, looking down with a sigh. He looked back up into Prussia's face and forced him to his knees.

The cold in Russia's eyes made Prussia shudder. The bigger country knelt behind Prussia, pulling on the white hair, forcing Gil's head back. He leaned in threateningly close to Prussia's face over his shoulder.

"Say whatever you want. I don't enjoy hurting anyone," Russia's voice was like ice, completely void of emotion, "But if you force me to, I will break you. Until there's nothing left. Until you're begging me to stop and leave you alone. Until you can't even do that. Until death is a gift I won't give you. Because I _own_ you." Russia's voice almost shook with anger.

Prussia smirked, _Good. Hate me. I need you to hate me._

"When I'm done with you…" There was no pain in Russia's voice, only rage, "Your brother won't even recognize you." He pulled back harder on Prussia's hair, grabbing the country's right wrist and pinning it behind his back, pulling it up, straining Prussia's shoulder and drawing a soft squeak of pain from him. Russia smiled, "Your precious baby brother won't be able to fix you. No one will."

Prussia set his jaw, trying to force himself not to react. His shoulder burned as Russia pulled harder on his arm. He tried to wrench free, struggling uselessly, putting his left hand to Russia's on his hair, trying to pry his fingers away from the white strands. He struggled more, holding back a cry of pain as Russia used his knee to push him forward, holding his arm still. Pain shot through his shoulder as he heard it snap. He brought his free hand to it, trying to force it back into place.

Russia released him, letting him fall forward.

Prussia caught himself on the stone with his left arm. He looked back up at Russia, holding back another cry of pain as Russia grabbed his upper arm, pulling him up to his knees by his broken shoulder.

Russia set the bone, drawing a cry of pain from the white-haired country. He smiled, "I didn't know you still had this much much fight in you, Ptitska…"

Prussia didn't look at him, still gripping his aching shoulder.

"I suppose you did warn me there was Prussia left in you… I just didn't believe you. I haven't seen it in so long." Russia grabbed Prussia's upper arm again, pulling him to his feet and dragging him towards the wall. He stopped a little over half a meter away from it and shoved Prussia forward.

Prussia caught himself against by putting his hands flat against the wall. He smirked. This was a good one. He couldn't move easily without falling. He moved a little, trying to even out his weight on both legs. He winced as he felt Russia's hands on the back of his shirt, ripping it down the middle and pushing it over his shoulders, exposing his back. He closed his eyes as Russia traced the symbolic scar on his shoulder. Even the slight pressure of Russia's fingers was enough to hurt his already burning shoulder. He was sure it had already started to bruise. He glanced back at Russia, too angry to be afraid.

Russia shook his head, "You seem to have forgotten all about this, comrade."

Prussia looked back at the wall. He _hated_ being called that.

"I'll have to remind you," Russia smiled, pulling out his knife.

Prussia closed his eyes, setting his jaw with anticipation. He forced himself not to cry out as Russia pressed the knife into the scar, digging into his skin. The bigger country drew the blade across the mark, reopening it. He glanced down as blood dripped down his side onto the floor. He gasped in pain as Russia grabbed his right arm, pulling him back, bringing his left arm to meet his right. He winced as he felt and heard cuffs snap around his wrists. He struggled with them, crying out in pain as they tightened, digging into his skin.

 _Double locked,_ Prussia swore internally. "Are you going to loosen these?"

"Not when you ask like that," Russia laughed, grabbing Prussia's arm and dragging him back to the middle of the room. "Stand," he ordered, walking to the corner of the room and grabbing the sole chair.

Prussia glared at him, _Really?_

Russia relaxed into the chair, bringing his ankle to his knee, looking up at Prussia with a smile.

"How long am I going to stand here?" Prussia asked, annoyed.

"As long, as I ask you to."

Prussia looked away. He was nervous but tried not to show it. It had already been a day since Lithuania had given him the last dose of drugs. He'd made men stand for over twenty-four hours before. It wouldn't take that long before Russia started to notice that something was wrong. His shoulder burned, and he could feel blood dripping down his back. He squirmed a little, trying to brush it away with his sleeve. He refused to look at Russia. This was what he wanted. He would fight with everything he had left. So Russia would break it out of him. Everything. All the fight, all the pain, all the guilt… He closed his eyes, opening them as he started to feel himself fall asleep. It had been several days since he'd slept, and he was starting to slip. How long had it been now? There were no windows in the room, nothing to indicate the passage of time. He looked down at Russia, who had pulled out a book. Prussia couldn't read the title, but he shook his head with a smirk and a half-laugh.

 _Reading? Really?_ Even if it was boring just making sure he was standing, reading was almost insulting. He shrugged it off. His shoulder didn't feel any better, even a little worse, strained from the handcuffs that dug into his wrists. He could feel the metal tearing at his pulling up pieces of skin, cold against the tender, raw, new skin underneath. It stung. He tried not to move his hands or arms. Even breathing moved his body enough to send shooting pain through his shoulders and arms. The infected needle marks in his arms were healing quickly, as always, but they itched. It wasn't particularly painful, but it was annoying. His ear itched too. He turned his head, rubbing it against his bad shoulder. He didn't have another choice except ignoring it, and that wasn't possible. He glanced back at Russia, who had passed another fifty pages or so in the book. He sighed, at least it was almost a way to keep time, but Russia was a fast reader. He knew it had been at least a few hours. His legs were starting to burn. He tried to move as little as possible, hoping they would go numb. He closed his eyes.

 _"Don't hurt him, Russia…" Germany whispered through grit teeth, looking up at the tall country, "Please…Please…"  
_ _"You're in no position to make demands." Russia shook his head.  
_ _…  
_ _"_ _You don't want to say 'hello' to me, ptitska?"  
_ _"Ulgh! Don't call me that!"  
_ _"You don't like your cage?"  
_ _"Nein!"  
_ _…  
_ _"_ _What have you done?" Prussia whispered through his teeth, tears still streaming.  
_ _"GDR…" Russia's voice was calm, "They were trying to get back to West Germany, and that is not allowed."  
_ _"You're killing them!"_ _  
_ _"GDR" Russia's voice was no longer kind, "They are not allowed to go back to West Germany. I will not allow it."  
_ _"This is MY country!" Prussia spat back.  
_ _"Nyet, GDR, you are my country. You belong to me."  
_ _"You belong to me, and I take care of what is mine."  
_ _…  
_ _"_ _You don't have to be afraid of me, GDR." Russia sighed, "I told you. I take care of what is mine."  
_ _…  
_ _"_ _Prussia is dead, GDR. All symbols of it are being removed. You are the German Democratic Republic now, and your brother needs to realize this, as do you."  
_ _…  
_ _"_ _There," Russia nodded to Lithuania's back, "That's what happens when you don't obey me."  
_ _Prussia shook his head, furious, "Are you proud of that?" He still stared at Lithuania's back, unable to look away.  
_ _"Nyet." Russia shook his head, "Don't think I enjoyed a second of it. I hated it. All of it. But he deserved every mark, isn't that right, Myshka?"  
_ _Lithuania nodded, "Yes."  
_ _…  
_ _"_ _I hate you, Gil," Poland sobbed, "I hate you. Don't you dare apologize to me…. not after what you've done…" Poland wrapped his fingers around the numbers on his arm. "Don't worry about Russia turning you into a monster… you already are."  
_ _…  
_ _Adelaide laughed, not even trying to pull her wrist away from his grip, "You can't give me orders, Gil."  
_ _"Yes. I can." He grabbed her other wrist, dragging her towards the wall. He pressed her up against it, pinning her wrists to her sides. He didn't speak for a moment, his eyes fixed on hers, which glittered with even more mischief than usual.  
_ _"Well?" She smiled, looking up at him, bringing her face closer to his, "What are your orders, Gilbert?"  
_ _"Stay," he whispered, his breathing getting faster.  
_ _"You're… ordering me to stay?" she looked up at him with a smirk, her own breath quickening.  
_ _"No…" He whispered, bringing his face closer to hers, "No, I'm… begging you to stay…"  
_ _She brought her lips to his, speaking against them, "I'll stay."  
_ _…  
_ _"_ _I need you…"  
_ _…  
_ _"_ _Shoot her."  
_ _"Don't do it, Gil!" Cort shouted to him, his voice trembling, "Let him kill me! Don't hurt my sister!"  
_ _Gil stared at Adelaide, then back at Cort. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.  
_ _"It's ok, Gilbert…" Adelaide smiled, looking up at him, "It's okay I forgive you…"  
_ _"Five seconds."  
_ _Adelaide closed her eyes.  
_ _Gil fired.  
_ _…  
_ _"_ _Break me," Gil whispered, "I want you to break me until there's nothing left. Until I can't feel anything anymore… Until every scrap of Prussia is gone… I can't…I can't do it… It hurts… it hurts, I can't…"  
_ _…  
_ _"_ _I will break you. Until there's nothing left. Until you're begging me to stop. Until you can't even do that. Until death is a gift I won't give you. Because I own you. When I'm done with you, your brother won't even recognize you. Even your precious baby brother won't be able to fix you. No one will."  
_ _…  
_ _"_ _Stand."  
_ _…  
_ Gil snapped back to reality. His body ached, his legs burned. He looked back at Russia, who turned one of last few pages of his book. He felt weak. His head spun. His heartbeat grew faster, his breathing starting to catch. He shook his head, closing his eyes again. He looked up, shadows starting to dart around the room. He closed his eyes. Cold hands touched him. He couldn't move away from them. They touched his back, his sides, his chest. They clawed at his arms, his neck, and his face. He tried to move his head away from them, but it didn't work. The hands followed him, touching his face, begging, pleading with him. He shivered, squirming again. The movement caused more pain to rush through his shoulder. He gasped in pain, looking back at Russia, who glanced up from his book for a moment, before returning to it. Gil shivered again. He couldn't close his eyes. The images behind them were too painful. He couldn't look at them. He couldn't see their faces. He looked around the room again, the shadows were still there, but there were more of them. He looked down at his legs. They were swollen and painful from standing for so long. He winced, closing his eyes tightly as flames licked at them, pain and the smell of burning flesh overwhelming him. The smell didn't go away. His body ached, begging him for relief, begging for drugs. He shook his head, trying to breathe normally. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck, stinging in the reopened scar on his back. He closed his eyes, trying hard to keep his breath at a normal rate. His heart was pounding in his chest now. He looked back at Russia, who turned the last page of the book. He debated tell him, begging him. He wasn't sure he could take it much longer, not without moving. He fought to keep himself from struggling at the handcuffs. It would pull them tighter and they were already unbearable. He could feel blood dripping down his fingers from his wrists. His hands were numb. He looked at Russia again as the giant country set the finished book on the ground and stood.

"Well, Ptitska? Have you had enough yet? Can we stop this? You get to go upstairs, and I get to stop doing this to you," he wasn't angry

Gil shook, but not from fear. He tried to stand straight, tried to calm his breathing. "Nein," he smirked, glaring up at Russia, who took a step closer to him.

"Why are you doing this, GDR? You agreed to join me, you've done what I've asked…" Russia stared at him, confused. He sighed, remembering what the smaller country had said only a few days before, "The guilt is killing you isn't it?"

Gil looked away.

"You asked me to teach you how to stop feeling…"

Gil bit his lip. His heart pounding in his chest. He needed to move. He couldn't stand anymore. His legs burned. They weren't going to hold him up much longer. His shoulders ached, and his mouth was dry. He tried to push through it, begging his body to listen to his mind. Begging it to stop seeing the shadows running over the walls. He looked up at Russia, shaking.

"I can't teach you that," Russia shook his head, "But I know someone who can…"

Gil shivered, with cold this time as it seemed to infect the room for a moment. He knew who Russia meant. He shuddered. He didn't want to meet him. If he could scare Russia…

"Aren't you the Soviet Union? You don't need any help to be cruel," he snapped. Russia was strong enough. He just wasn't in the right mood. He wasn't angry. Russia had nothing to gain from torturing him, and Gil knew it. He needed Russia to hate him.

"You said," he whispered, looking back up into Russia's face, "That you were glad the Romanov family was murdered… I don't believe you. I bet you did cry for them… I bet some of those scars on your neck are from-" his voice was cut off as Russia's hand clenched around his throat. He closed his eyes, instantly dizzy as the world started to blur.

"What did you say?" Russia's voice growled, icy cold.

Gil couldn't speak, he had no way to struggle against Russia's grip. Russia brought him to the ground, pinning his neck to the floor. The relief on his legs was welcome, until he felt Russia's knee against his own, keeping him from kicking. His arms, pinned under him, still burned, and the quick movement had fully torn the skin of his wrists from the muscle under it. He choked, struggling to breathe. The images flashing behind his closed eyes were unbearable, the cold hands all over him again. Everything was blurry, everything going black.

"What do you know about it?" Russia's voice tried to bring him back to reality. It wasn't enough.

He struggled as much as he could, Russia's grip grew crushingly tight against his throat. He gasped for breath as Russia let go suddenly, rolling to his side, coughing hard. It still wasn't enough. He blacked out.

* * *

A/N: Well... that was... interesting... I threw some flashbacks in there partly to remind you guys of what's been happening (not that I think you've forgotten) and also because Gil is reliving everything. There's still Prussia left in him, as you all noticed I hope. That's what he wants Russia to kill. that side of him that will fight. (do you think Russia could really get rid of it? Make good on his threat to destroy Gil that much?) Do you think Gil will be able to continue to keep the drugs a secret from Russia? I'll give you one guess as to who Russia meant can help Gil stop feeling. And now Russia knows that Gil knows about the scars on his neck. I wonder if that's going to get someone else we care about in trouble too...?

History lesson time! While there wasn't a lot of torture in this chapter, everything I described were real tortures used by the Soviet Union. Especially the standing for hours and hours and hours thing. They were almost known for that particular method. After a while, people would start hallucinating, which certainly didn't make the beginnings of withdrawal any better for Gil.

Yes, I censored the swear word. I know I didn't have to, but I still did. Don't hate me. Trying to keep this PG-13! You all know what he said. (and Russia deserved it... maybe?)

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated! I'm so glad you guys love this story as much as I do! Thank you so much for the continued support! It means SO much to me! Cookies and hugs to you all! :D


	32. Chapter 32: Barely

A/N: A pre-warning for this one. Graphic descriptions of violence ahead.

* * *

Chapter 32

Gil opened his eyes, groaning in pain, the pressure in his legs almost unbearable and shoulder still burned, but the worst pain was shooting through and around his wrists. He looked down at his arms as they lay on his stomach. His wrists were wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. He tried to move his fingers, unsure he could. They moved, but he couldn't feel them tap back onto the blanket. He sighed. It would be a while before his hands would be functional again.

He shivered with cold, suddenly noticing he wasn't wearing a shirt. He gasped, instantly looking to the crooks of his arms. The needle marks were hidden by bandages. He sighed in relief.

He could feel another cloth over his shoulder, wrapped around his chest, covering the re-opened scar in his back. He winced suddenly noticing a cold sting on his legs. He strained to look down at them. They were covered in ice packs. He reached up to touch his neck. It was bruised. He winced.

Gil jumped suddenly, turning towards the door, trying to pull himself up onto his elbows and cried out in pain. He couldn't move his legs. He looked to the door again as it opened. Estonia walked in, carrying a bag of fresh medical supplies. Gil relaxed, letting himself lay back onto the bed. He touched his neck again. He could feel the bruises from the inside of his neck, but nothing with his fingers. It was a strange sensation, and he didn't particularly like it. He watched Estonia walk to the bed and sit in the chair beside it. The quiet country sighed, opening the medical bag and setting it on the bedside table. He slipped on a pair of gloves, and took one of Gil's arms, starting to unwrap the bloody bandages at his wrists.

Gil wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to Estonia. The country barely spoke, so having a two-sided conversation was nearly impossible. He winced as the bandage stuck to his wrist. He wasn't sure he wanted to look at the damage the handcuffs had caused. He turned to watch Estonia work. The blond country sighed, grabbing a cloth from the bag, and walking into the bathroom to wet it. Gil turned away, inhaling sharply as Estonia pressed the wet cloth against the gauze bandage. He looked back to see Estonia peel the cloth and bandage from his wrist. He bit his lip, looking at the injury. His wrists were stitched almost all the way around. He looked up at Estonia, concerned. Hoping he would explain.

"Those handcuffs nearly degloved your wrists," Estonia shook his head, irritated, "Next time ask him to loosen them."

"I did," Gil winced at the sound of his own voice. It was dry, choked, and barely audible. His throat burned as he spoke. He coughed hard, falling back onto the bed.

"Next time ask nicely," Estonia rolled his eyes.

Gil turned to look at his wrists again.

"I tried to be careful," Estonia explained, "It shouldn't scar. You'll heal quickly anyway." He pushed his glasses up with his wrist, as he continued to inspect his work on Gil's wrist. He started to wrap a new bandage around it.

Gil sighed, looking back up at the ceiling. He let Estonia take his other wrist, repeating the same process of wetting the old bandage and removing it, then replacing it with a new one.

"Are your hands still numb?"

Gil nodded. He looked down at the bandages around his elbows. "Did you…?" he whispered.

"See your arms? Yes," Estonia sighed, "And I gave you more. Toris said you take two syringes, so that's what I gave you," he said disapprovingly, "You were barely hanging on before you got it. How often are you taking it?"

Gil bit his lip, looking away.

"Every day?" Estonia barely phrased it as a question.

Gil nodded.

"I'll give you another dose tomorrow then."

"You're… helping me…?" Gil managed to choke, whispering. His voice refused to work. Russia's hand had done more damage than he'd originally thought.

"We've all tried stupid coping mechanisms, Gil. Just because yours is particularly idiotic doesn't mean I want you to suffer for it."

Gil looked back at Estonia gratefully, "Toris wasn't as…" He stopped suddenly, noticing Estonia's expression change when he said the country's name. It hit him how strange it was that Estonia was there just to change bandages. He would have been needed to stitch his wrists, but he never actually changed the bandages. It was always Lithuania. Never once had it been Estonia, never once. He looked into Estonia's face, worried. He tried to steady his voice enough to speak, "Ed…where…is…Liet?"

Estonia looked down, then back up at Gil with a sigh, "With Russia." He looked down again.

"How long?" Gil whispered, sitting up on his elbows. It sent shooting pain into his arm, but he didn't care.

Estonia shook his head, "Hours…"

"How… long have I…?" He couldn't choke out the words. His throat burned. Speaking felt like swallowing sand.

"You've been out for almost a day." Estonia sighed, taking off the gloves and throwing them in the trash next to the bed. He started to zip up the medical bag.

Gil grabbed Estonia's wrist, looking up at him, his eyes pleading for more information. Anything Estonia knew.

Estonia sighed again, then turned back to Gil. "You were out cold, Russia carried you up here and sent me to deal with the mess. He locked himself in his room for an hour or so, before he…" Estonia swallowed hard. He tried not to care what Russia did, tried to stay out of the way, but he wasn't happy about any of it. "Russia grabbed Lithuania and took him downstairs. They've been down there almost the whole day…"

"And?" Gil whispered through grit teeth. He was going to kill Russia.

"The screaming stopped almost five hours ago, but Russia hasn't… he hasn't come back yet," Estonia tried to hide the fear in his voice.

Gil swore under his breath and tried to push the covers and ice off his legs. He couldn't move. "Help me," He looked up at Estonia.

"Gil, you can't stand yet…"

Gil glared at him, shaking his head, "I don't care…" He forced his voice to be loud enough to be understood. His throat screamed at him. He ignored it.

Estonia sighed, putting his arm around Gil's back, helping him stand.

Gil's legs gave way. He fell to the ground as Estonia lost his grip. He looked up at the blond country weakly. He felt sick, lightheaded, and his legs burned.

Estonia helped him up again, carefully.

Gil forced his legs to hold his weight, his will power winning over the pain. He let Estonia drag him towards a chair, where he sat, motioning towards his boots.

Estonia grabbed them and brought them to him.

Gil tried to grip them, but his numb fingers barely worked.

Estonia looked up at him, almost pleading for him to stop.

"Help?" Gil nodded to the boots.

Estonia sighed, tugging them onto Gil's legs. He loosened the laces to make room for the swollen ankles and calfs of Gil's limbs. The ice had helped, but not enough. There was a reason forcing someone to stand for hours was one of Russia's favorites.

Gil nodded his thanks and put his arm around Estonia's shoulders, standing again with help. He stepped forward carefully, leaning heavily on Estonia. He was too angry to care how much walking hurt. He caught himself on the wall and opened the door. He limped into the hall, leaning against the wall, trying to just keep stepping forward. He didn't know how he was going to get down the stairs, but he would, that much he did know. He leaned against the railing, forcing one foot in front of the other. Once at the bottom he forced himself to walk again, unable to find something to support him. He fell forward, catching himself, crying out in pain as the weight pulled at the wounds on his wrists. He tried to stand, dragging himself to the wall. He looked around. No one was there to help him. He set his jaw and forced himself to his feet, leaning against the wall, panting for a moment. He didn't know what his plan was once he got downstairs. Stop Russia? There was no way he could do that. Not like this. Distract Russia? Maybe he could manage that. He looked down the hallway and pulled himself forward, still leaning against the wall. His legs burned. He was able to keep them moving on will power alone, but he knew eventually even that wouldn't be enough. He caught the handle of the door to the basement. He glance into the kitchen. No one was inside. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly 3 in the morning. He sighed. At least everyone else would be asleep. He wouldn't have to deal with any of them trying to stop him. He opened the door which lead down the dark staircase. He stepped forward and missed. His body crashed into the steps. He tried protect his head as he rolled down the stone, crying out in pain. He breathed hard as he reached the bottom, trying not to move. Everything hurt. He groaned. His back stung where the stairs had torn the bandages off the wound. His arms were cut and bleeding, as were his sides, back, and chest. His arms had done their job and protected his head for the most part, though he could feel a few stinging marks. He dragged himself forwards towards the black door where he guessed Russia would be. He looked down, trying to catch his breath, closing his eyes. He heard the door open and looked up, terrified. Russia smiled down at him, grabbing his hair and pulling him up to his knees.

"Haven't you had enough?" Russia threw him to the side, letting Gil's head hit the stone.

Gil winced but didn't cry out. He glared up at Russia, who continued to walk towards the stairs, ignoring Gil.

"Russia!" he choked. He tried to sound angry, but his voice was too choked.

Russia turned, walking back towards him, "Oh!" he grinned, that sickeningly childlike grin without a hint of innocence to it, "You're here to see what you did to Myshka, aren't you?"

"What you did!" Gil spat back, the rage he was too weak to act on rising to his chest.

Russia shook his head, "Nyet. Really, he did it to himself. He shouldn't have told you about… my secrets. They aren't his to share. He needs to learn that. It's very important that he learns this, da?"

Gil stared up at him, horrified. He looked down at Russia's coat. There was blood on it. He shuddered. Russia always took it off before hurting them. If there was enough blood to actually get on the coat… he glared up at Russia, clenching his numb hands into fists. He smirked. His hands were numb. He forced himself to his feet, barely able to stand.

Russia smiled, impressed, "You really hate me that much?" He looked down at Gil's shaking legs, noticing he leaned against the wall.

"Ja," Gil snapped, bringing his left fist to Russia's face with as much force as he could get. His knuckles split, but so did Russia's cheek. He looked down at his hand. It didn't hurt. The one advantage to his hands being numb.

Russia brought his hand to his face, pulling it away and seeing the blood. He looked back at Gil with ice in his eyes. He grabbed Gil's hair and pulled him forward hard, sending the white-haired country instantly to the ground. He pressed his boot into Gil's back, keeping him down. He leaned down and grabbed the white hair, dragging Gil forward without another word.

Gil tried to struggle, but he wasn't strong enough. He grabbed Russia's hand on his hair, trying to force him to let go. It was useless. He fought harder as Russia dragged him to the black door and turned the handle. He shuddered. Russia hadn't even bothered to lock the door.

Russia opened the giant black slab slowly, shoving Gil forward onto the stone floor, "I'll deal with you tomorrow. For now, you can stay in here with what's left of Toris," He snarled, slamming the door behind him.

Gil heard the key turn in the lock. He winced. He hadn't turned from the door. He was afraid of what he would see. He glanced to the left of the door as he saw the chair out of the corner of his eyes. Thrown against it was a bloody whip and the barbed-wire Russia had brought into the room with him earlier. Gil bit his lip, closing his eyes. The barbed-wire was blood-soaked, and he could see pieces of skin still caught on the spikes. He tried not to imagine how Russia must have used it. He turned slowly, his eyes still closed. He could smell the blood. He opened his eyes and shuddered. He brought his hand to his mouth, too shocked to even try to speak.

Lithuania wasn't even tied to the wall. He lay on his back on the stone, a pool of blood around him. He'd been stripped to his shorts, and Gil saw his uniform lying in a pile in the corner. The man's body was covered in blood and bruises, and his dark green eyes were open and turned towards the door, but he made no acknowledgment of Gil. He wasn't moving.

Gil dragged himself closer to him, gasping again as his arms splashed into something on the ground. More blood. He looked away, not caring if he was covered in it. He leaned on his elbow as he reached Lithuania. He pushed his dark hair, which was soaking in sweat and blood, out of his face. He sighed, relieved as he saw Lithuania breathing. He looked down at the man's body, closing his eyes for a moment, before opening them again. He could see the red marks from a whip over Lithuania's shoulders, and he knew his back was covered in them. Across his arms and stomach were other marks, deeper, more jagged. Gil shuddered. He knew of only one thing made wounds like that: barbed-wire. He winced, just thinking about it turned his stomach. Dark purple bruises covered the dark-haired country's entire body, the clearly identified wounds from the faucet of Russia's pipe still bled, dripping down the man's stomach and sides. Both of Lithuania's legs were crushed and bleeding from the pipe crashing against them. His wrists were rubbed raw from either handcuffs or rope; they were so torn Gil couldn't tell what had caused the injuries.

Gil looked back up to Lithuania's face. It held a dark purple and red bruise in the shape of Russia's hand but was mostly untouched. He wanted to feel relieved, but the damage to the rest of Lithuania's body didn't let him.

"T-Toris?" he managed to choke. He touched Lithuania's hair, trying to be something like comforting. He still couldn't feel his hands. He wasn't sure if Lithuania was even conscious, but he doubted it. Unless Russia was extra careful. Sometimes he left them awake. He wanted them to feel it.

Lithuania didn't respond.

"Liet?" Gil tried to lift Lithuania's face from the stone, turning it towards his own. He shivered again. Lithuania looked dead. He glanced down at the man's chest again, making sure he was breathing. He was. He was alive. Barely. "Liet?" he tried again, looking at the glassed over green eyes. He smiled, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw Lithuania's eyes focus and turn towards him. He bit his lip again as Lithuania frowned, closing his eyes, letting a soft groan of pain escape his lips.

"T-Toris?" he whispered again.

The dark green eyes opened again, focusing on Gil's face.

Gil shivered, taking his hand away from Lithuania's head. He'd never seen _hate_ in Lithuania's eyes before.

"I'm so sorry…" he choked, shaking his head, looking down at Lithuania's broken body. It was his fault. It, just like everything else, was his fault. Another sin to add to the ever-growing list he couldn't keep up with.

Lithuania closed his eyes, tears slipping down the sides of his face into his hair, "Why…?" his voice was choked too, choked and dry. He could barely even whisper, groaning in pain again. He didn't open his eyes, "Why did you tell him… one secret… one secret I asked you to keep… and you promised…" He opened his eyes, letting them meet Gil's.

The pain in Lithuania's eyes was almost more than Gil could take.

"I wanted him to get angry…" he whispered. It hurt less.

"Good job…" Lithuania groaned again, closing his eyes tightly as pain shot through his whole body.

"At me," Gil shook his head, "I didn't want him to… I didn't think he'd…"

"He's not… stupid… he figured out… I told you…" Lithuania breathed hard, the effort it took to speak making him dizzy with pain.

"I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry…" Gil shook his head again, bringing his hand to his head, closing his eyes and opening them immediately. Too many memories.

Lithuania looked back up at Gil, his vision blurry and weak. He could barely keep his eyes open.

"So…" Gil sighed deeply, "Do you hate me yet?" he whispered. He didn't want this. He didn't want any of this.

Lithuania closed his eyes, more tears falling from them across his face, "I should… but…" he strained suddenly, trying to breathe, pain overwhelming him. He closed his eyes, letting himself slip into the temporary relief of unconsciousness.

"Liet?" Gil whispered, bringing his hand back to Lithuania's head, brushing his hair back from his face again. He sighed, seeing the country's chest still rising and falling weakly. He looked back at the door. He was going to kill Russia for this. If Belarus didn't get to him first.

* * *

A/N: Russia what have you done... *shudders* And Gil actually succeeded in getting Liet to hate him, at least for a little while. We all know Liet is way too forgiving and kind for his own good. And Gil feels so guilty that he literally dragged himself to Liet, not that he's actually much help right now. Ugh... this was brutal. We haven't seen Russia cause this much damage before, at least not this much physical damage. Gil managed to find the ONE THING that could make Russia get this angry. Russia feels betrayed... rightly so? (not that his reaction to the 'betrayal' is good. At all.) What do you think? But now Gil feels even more guilty. Another person he cares about (Lithuania is not-so-arguably his only actual friend in Russia's house after all...) that he's ended up being the cause of pain for. If Gil had just kept his mouth shut this wouldn't have happened. It is actually his fault. How long do you think it will take Lithuania to forgive him?

A medical note: "Degloving" is a very nasty injury where the skin is ripped up from muscle (and sometimes through it). My real-life job involves me looking at medical reference pictures quite regularly, but this particular one made even MY stomach turn. So please, I DO NOT recommend you look it up. Know that it's really, really bad, and really really really really really painful. Anyway, I told you what it is now, so you don't need to look it up. (Seriously though, not in a joking way, I really don't recommend looking it up, it is VERY disturbing)

Really no history in this chapter, just narrative. Though Soviet Russia was very. VERY cruel to prisoners, this wasn't Soviet torture. This was just a really, really bad beating. Most Soviet tortures were designed not to leave scars or marks. What Rusia did here, clearly, didn't have that thinking behind it. More scars for Liet... I would hug him but...

As always, reviews are so appreciated! 100 reviews! WOW! Thank you guys SO MUCH! It means SO SO SO SO SO MUCH to me that you guys love this story enough to review it! I will answer a few of your questions here. I wish I could reply to guests too! I always reply if you have an account and you write a review! Anyway:  
Kattie: I am planning to continue this fic up through the wall's breaking down (see what I did there? ;) I'm smart y'all!) and though Gil's recovery once he's back with his brother! Also... thank you for the "Malteasers"... though I don't know what they are... perhaps they are only a UK thing?  
MURICAN NINJA: I'm sorry for playing with your heart! I'm doing so because I'm a rather cruel author (though I love all the characters so much... so so SO much!) and DRAMA XD  
Nameless Guest who keeps leaving all the comments including the 100TH COMMENT: Well first, thank you so much for all the reviews! Please continue to rant! I'm glad my story is so emotional for you! It means I'm doing my job! XD Yes, Russia did almost bring in General Winter to help break Gil, and yeah... Luddy's gonna be TICKED. Though it's more of the mental breaking that he's going to have to deal with than the physical side of things. But he's not going to be happy about that communist scar on his brother's back... but then again... he's had one of his own... just a different shape...though by this point in the story it's almost completely gone. Just a distant memory... though an important one. Also, I forgive you for the dead/old meme. XD

Thank you again to all the reviewers! Again, I appreciate it so much! Cookies and candy and hugs for all of you! (extra hugs after this chapter... my gosh what did I just write...)


	33. Chapter 33: Help

Chapter 33

Gil looked towards the door, then back at Lithuania. He couldn't just leave him there. He dragged himself to the door by his arms, his legs refusing to move even enough for him to crawl. He glanced down at them. He'd done more damage to them, but he didn't care. He reached for the door handle, knowing it was locked. He pulled himself towards the door so he could lean against it, sitting up. He stopped for a moment, trying to catch his breath. His throat burned. He looked back at the door, he slammed his fist against it, ignoring the pain. Nothing. He touched his throat, unsure he could even make his voice loud enough. It was one thing he had always been good at and he couldn't even do that. He pounded on the door with numb hands, opening his mouth to beg for help.

No sound.

He coughed hard from the effort and looked back at Lithuania, who still hadn't moved, his eyes still closed. He could see him still breathing, barely. Gil turned back to the door. He turned to his side, pulling his legs under him, leaning against the door until he was kneeling. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. His legs throbbed with pain. He used both fists on the door.

"HEY!" he screamed through the sandpaper in his throat, "HELP!" He pounded harder on the door, pulling them away for a moment as agonizing pain shot around his left wrist. He saw blood instantly seep through the bandages. He'd torn through the stitches. He gripped his wrist with his right hand, grunting in pain, trying to ignore it. He was a soldier. He could do this. He could push through this. He had to do this. He looked up at the door again and slammed his fists against it even harder.

"ESTONIA! BELARUS! UKRAINE!" He screamed, tears of pain sliding down his cheeks. He tasted metal and ignored it. He screamed louder, "SOMEONE PLEASE! HELP!"

Nothing.

His arms were numb. They refused to put any more pressure on the door. He pulled them down to look at his hands. They were bleeding, broken. He didn't care. He tried again to slam his fists against the door, trying to make noise, trying to get someone's attention.

"PLEASE!" Gil looked back at Lithuania, worried. He let his fist hit the door again, weakly, "Please… please, someone, find us… please…" He pressed his hand against the door, letting his forehead rest on it. He gasped for breath, tears sliding down his cheeks. He coughed hard, blood rising into his mouth. He spit it on the ground, gasping for breath. His breathing slowed finally, but his throat still bled.

Silence. There was nothing but silence and the sound of Lithuania's strained breathing. Gil turned to look at the broken country. He couldn't help him. He couldn't do anything.

 _I hope you hate me for this Liet…_ he let another tear slide down his face. _This is my fault. I might as well have done this to you myself. I'm so sorry… This is all my fault… why do you have to be so forgiving? Why do you have to be so stupidly kind all the d*** time? Why can't you hate me? Why won't you hate me!? I do…_ he bit back the tears. He didn't want them. He didn't want to cry anymore. He just wanted everything to go away. He didn't want to be able to think anymore. _Let Russia take my mind from me. I can't do this anymore… I can't keep hurting people! I can't do this!_ He slammed his fist on the door one more time, looking up at it again, tears of anger streaming down his cheeks.

"SOMEONE HELP US PLEASE!" he leaned down, coughing until he was dizzy, spitting blood. He fell back, his legs unable to hold him up anymore. He dragged himself to the wall, leaning his back against it for a moment before falling to the ground, the last of his willpower and strength completely gone. He coughed, letting the blood drip from his mouth. He looked up towards Lithuania.

 _I'm so sorry…_ he hadn't tried hard enough. He closed his eyes, too exhausted to keep them open anymore. He could feel himself starting to slip into unconsciousness. He opened his eyes weakly again as he heard footsteps in the hallway. He couldn't move. He couldn't scream anymore. He looked up, begging.

 _God, please… I have nothing to offer you… but please… please let them help him… please…_

He looked towards the door again, sighing deeply in relief as it opened. He tried to make out the shapes of the three figures who walked in.

 _Estonia, Belarus… Hungary_ he smiled weakly, looking up at them.

Belarus muffled a scream with her hand and ran to Toris, throwing herself to her knees beside him. Gil could faintly hear her begging for Toris to be ok from behind him. He looked up weakly, watching as Hungary knelt beside him. She touched his hair, her beautiful bright green eyes filled with worry.

"Gil…?" She whispered, her voice even more concerned than her face.

He tried to force a smile, knowing he failed miserably.

She put her hand to his face gently, rubbing his cheek.

He relaxed at her touch, closing his eyes, letting a few tears fall again. He saw her hand slip into his, and he wished he could feel it. He closed his fingers around his, unable to feel her doing the same. He looked up at her as she continued to rub his cheek. It was more comforting than he would admit. He could faintly hear Belarus and Estonia whispering behind him, trying to decide how to get Lithuania upstairs. He looked back to Hungary.

"Can you walk?" she whispered, brushing his hair away from his face.

He tried to say 'no' but he couldn't get his voice to work. He coughed hard, closing his eyes, turning away from her hand.

She wiped the blood off her hand on her apron, "Blood doesn't bother me, Gil. But you can't move, can you?" she bit her lip, shaking her head, returning her hand to his cheek.

He shook his head, relaxing into her touch again. He saw her look up at Estonia and Belarus. He couldn't hear them well enough to understand what they said. His hearing was growing more distant, like listening through water, his vision blurring. He tried to focus on Hungary's face, trying to listen to what she was saying.

"I'm going to…"

He didn't catch the last word but felt her lift his left arm over her shoulders, sliding her arms under his back and his knees. He barely felt her lift him off the ground. He leaned his head against her shoulder, trying to stay awake. He could barely see, his vision dark and blurred. He vaguely registered being carried out of the open door. He tried to look back. Estonia carried Liet, and Belarus held his hand, brushing her sleeve over her eyes. He could just barely hear her crying. He turned away, resting his head again, too exhausted to hold it up anymore. He winced as Hungary carried him up the stairs. He didn't like the idea of Hungary of all people having to carry him, but he was much too weak to argue. He closed his eyes. He couldn't fight it anymore. He didn't want to fight anymore. He was too tired.

…

Hungary sighed in relief as she felt Gil go completely limp in her arms. She could still hear his shaking breaths. She glanced back at Estonia, who nodded to Belarus as they reached the door at the top of the stairs.

Belarus let go of Lithuania's hand and opened the door for them, looking out into the hall and motioning for them to follow her.

Hungary looked down at Gil again as she carried him through the halls. She turned to look at his left hand draped over her shoulder, feeling something wet her shirt. She bit her lip. Blood had soaked through the bandage and dripped down his hand onto her white sleeve. She didn't care. She looked back at Estonia and Lithuania again. Estonia's clothes would be ruined, but she doubted he cared either. She tried to be gentle as they hurried up the stairs and turned to Lithuania's room.

"Take both of them in there," Estonia nodded, his voice worried.

Hungary nodded back, following Belarus into Lithuania's room. She closed her eyes, wincing.

 _Poland…_ The blonde country was sleeping on the bed.

Hungary turned to look at Estonia, shaking her head before he walked into the room.

"Belarus, be gentle with him…" She whispered. She'd been trying to help him. He was making progress. Seeing what Russia had done to Lithuania could take it all away. All the hard work he'd put into healing. She looked down at Gil in her arms. She couldn't set him next to Poland. She couldn't do anything.

"Natalya, I need you to hold Gil until I can get Poland out of here." She almost ordered the other girl.

"I'm not going to touch that thing after what he's done to Torshka." She shook her head, crossing her arms, "I'll wake up Poland."

"Belarus please," Hungary's voice grew more stern, "The last thing we need to deal with is Poland freaking out. Please… just… just take Gil until I can get Poland out of here. He can't see Toris. He can't. He won't be able to handle it," She shook her head.

Belarus sighed, angry. She knew Hungary was right. She walked up to her and held out her arms.

Hungary laid Gil in Belarus's arms, which were more than strong enough to hold his weight. He weighed less than she remembered. It worried her, but she didn't have time to think about it. She ran to the bed and knelt on the side where Poland slept, curled into a ball, his arms by his face and the blankets pulled up over his shoulder.

"Feliks?" She whispered gently. He didn't respond. She spoke a little louder, "Feliks? It's Liz. Can you wake up for me?"

"Mmmmph…" Poland groaned, not opening his eyes. He frowned, then fell back asleep.

Hungary put her hand on his gently, "Feliks?"

Poland jumped awake, sitting up, pulling his hand away from Hungary's with a gasp, covering his head with his hands.

"Feliks it's ok! It's ok, it's just me!" Hungary put her hands on his gently, trying to pull them away from his face. "It's ok. It's ok, just look at me…"

Poland lowered his arms slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Hungary's face. "I'm ok…." He nodded.

"Good," She touched his face kindly, smiling at him. "Now… I need you to go back to your own room, ok?"

"W-why?" Poland shivered, looking at her, terrified, "W-where's Liet…?"

"Poland… please… just go back to your room, don't-"

Poland shook his head, pushing past her, standing and looking towards the door. He saw Belarus holding Gil. "Why is he here!?" Poland wrapped his arms around himself, trembling.

Hungary walked up behind him, putting her hand on his shoulder gently, "Poland…" She didn't know how to explain.

"Is he… dead…?" Poland whispered, pointing towards Gil.

"No, just unconscious, but-"

"Where. is. Liet," Poland whispered, biting his lip hard.

"Feliks…"

Poland shook his head, pulling away from Hungary's hand and ran through the door. He turned the corner and froze. His whole body trembled as he slowly brought both his hands to his mouth. He shook his head, closing his eyes, his hands muffling a painful sob.

Hungary ran to him, wrapping her arms around him.

He didn't move, looking over her shoulder, keeping his hands over his mouth and his eyes fixed on Lithuania's body.

"He's not dead, Feliks… he's going to be ok…" She bit her lip. Poland's body shook with sobs, but he didn't move his arms from his face. She pulled away from the hug, standing in front of him, looking into his eyes. He was just barely taller than her, and she couldn't block his view of Lithuania.

"Feliks, look at me, please," She whispered.

He shook his head, pulling his hands down from his face, wrapping them around himself, tears streaming.

"Feliks, please…" She touched his face gently, trying to turn it towards her without hurting him.

He flinched, pulling away.

"Please, please go back to your room. I promise we'll take care of him… please, you don't want to be here…"

He looked into her face and set his jaw, shaking his head, pressing his fingers into his arms. "No… no, I want to help… please… let me help…"

"Feliks…"

"Trust me I've seen worse… please…. please let me help. I can help, I promise."

Hungary looked back at Estonia, who said nothing. She turned back to Poland. "Ok… but, if you-"

"If it gets bad I'll leave, I promise… I really promise," He looked into her eyes, nodding, "I promise."

Hungary looked back at Estonia, who nodded. She sighed and motioned for Poland to follow her into the room again. Belarus had already set Gil down on the bed. She walked up to the rest of them.

"I'll get all the medical supplies…" She glanced back at Lithuania, biting her lip. She noticed Poland and looked at Hungary, confused.

"He wants to help."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" She asked, not caring if he heard her.

"I'm fine. I can help." Poland bit his lip, his hands still digging into his arms.

"Ok…" Belarus shook her head and walked past the group heading towards the medical closet.

Hungary ran into the bathroom and started the water running in the tub. If they laid Lithuania down in the bed there would be too much of a mess to actually address the wounds.

Estonia carried him into the bathroom, laying him in the white tub gently, brushing Lithuania's matted hair back from his face. He looked up at Hungary without a word.

Hungary sighed, she was worried too. She searched through the bathroom shelves, trying to find clean washcloths. She opened one of the cupboards and paused, shocked and worried. A razor blade caught the light. She glanced back at Estonia, who looked up at her.

"Ignore it," he shook his head, knowing what she'd seen.

Hungary bit her lip, and closed the cupboard again, opening a drawer. An entire set of 6 washcloths were rolled in it. She sighed in relief, grabbing all of them and bringing them towards the tub. She took one and Estonia took the other. They were gentle, trying not to rip at the wounds, trying to wash the blood away.

Hungary opened the drain, letting the water run, trying to clean the wounds at least slightly. She'd seen worse.

Estonia sighed, glancing up at her before gently lifting Lithuania, resting the man's head on his shoulder so they could reach his back.

Hungary gasped, staring for a moment before looking up Estonia.

The blond country shook his head.

"Let me guess… 'ignore it'?" She whispered.

Estonia nodded.

"Did… Russia…?"

Estonia nodded again with a deep sigh.

She closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. She couldn't imagine pain like that, and she'd experienced plenty. She was, after all, one of the older countries. She took a cloth and started to dab at the blood on Lithuania's back, revealing new wounds and old scars. When she finished cleaning his back she looked up at Estonia, still worried. The wounds on his back were deep, some of them deep enough to stitch.

Estonia nodded, standing, lifting Lithuania again, trying to keep his hand off his back.

Hungary went ahead of him, walking straight to Poland. She took the blond country's hand, looking at him sadly.

Poland watched Estonia carry Lithuania back into the room and lay him on the bed. He took a step forward towards him but stopped.

"You don't have to stay here, it's ok."

Poland shook his head, "I… I don't want to be alone…"

"Then you can sit over there," Hungary motioned to one of the three chairs in Lithuania's room, "Please, you don't have to help, it's ok, Toris would understand."

Belarus re-entered the room as she spoke, running up to Lithuania's side, taking his hand and setting the medical supplies by Estonia. She pressed Lithuania's hand to her cheek, kissing his fingers.

Poland turned to Hungary, confused, "They're a…"

Hungary nodded, "Yeah, it surprised me too."

"I thought she…"

"Apparently that's just an act to keep Russia away from her."

"But she broke his fingers…"

"That was before they got married…" Hungary shrugged.

Poland bit his lip, staring at Belarus as she turned to Estonia, trying to help him.

"Poland… you don't have to help," Hungary touched his shoulder kindly, nodding to the chairs in the room.

Poland sighed, nodding back and walking towards them. As soon as he sat down he put his hands over his ears, leaning forward, shaking.

Hungary ran to him, "Sh… sh, it's ok. You're right here. You're ok. No one's going to hurt you…"

Poland nodded, "I'm ok… go…" he squeaked in pain, pressing his hands into his head, "go help Liet!" He cried, shaking his head, trying to make the voices stop, trying to make the pain stop. He winced, curling his legs under the chair like he'd been kicked.

"Sh… sh…" Hungary pet his hair gently, trying to comfort him, "Sh, you're ok."

"Help… Liet…" Poland shook his head, still trembling uncontrollably.

Hungary looked back to the bed, fixing her eyes on Gil. He needed her. Estonia and Belarus could help Lithuania. She stood,

"If you're ok," She whispered.

Poland nodded weakly, still pressing his hands into his ears, shaking.

Hungary turned away, walking up to Gil. She touched his face gently and turned to his hands. She glanced up at Estonia, who noticed the bloody bandage around Gil's wrist. He rolled his eyes.

"Give me a minute," He shook his head, trying to deal with Lithuania's crushed legs, trying to force the bones back into place. They weren't going to heal quickly.

Hungary nodded, and started to unwrap the bandage from Gil's wrist.

* * *

A/N: And you guys were all expecting torture! Healing first. Neither of them can take anything more. Gil might be able to take a few hits, but Lithuania is waaaaaay too close to death as it is. He'd come back of course, but still. It takes longer to heal if they die from the injuries. Some Hungary point of view for you all. That's new! XD Poland's continuing to get better... but he's still far from doing well. And seeing Lithuania like that... *sighs* Hungary's right, it is going to set him back, but at least he's able to talk in full sentences now. He's trying so hard... GIL IN THE BEGINNING OF THIS CHAPTER! This may have been one of my favorite scenes to write so far. What he's done for Liet in this chapter and the last... He's still in there! He's still fighting, even when he can't! I didn't deal too much with how much they blame or don't blame Gil for what happened (except Belarus). He needs medical attention and so does Liet. Any blaming or not blaming come later.

One-sided PruHun is pretty much canon (Gil likes her even though she doesn't like him back, at least not romantically) so I'm going with that. There won't really be any PruHun in this, other than her being one of the few people he actually accepts comfort from, because they've known each other forever, and even if they have something of a love-hate relationship, they really do care about each other. But there won't be any romance between them in this fic, just friendship. (and maybe a few hints from Prussia that he won't act upon because frying pans)

History time: Hungary and Poland are "Cousins" and actually quite close. They've helped each other for most of their histories. in 2007 they even had an official "Polish-Hungarian Friendship Day" declared as March 23rd! So the idea that Hungary would also be helping Poland heal makes all the sense. With Hungary 'moming' him, and Liet being literally the best friend ever, he has a good team to help him! And he's actually in the same room as Gil! Granted he's not doing so well with that... but he's still in the room. He's trying so hard!

As always (I always say that too...) the reviews are wonderful for me! They really encourage me to keep updating so often! I LOVE reading your reviews. Even if they're short, and even if they're guests! (though I wish I could reply to ALL of you guys! Thank you so much!) I hope some of this chapter makes up for the brutality of the last one! Cookies and hugs to all! Also, thank you to Kattie for the Malteasers. They sound much better than woppers (which I dislike!)! Danke!


	34. Chapter 34: Childhood

Chapter 34

Gil hurt before he'd fully woken. His legs were a horrible mixture of excruciatingly painful, and completely numb. He didn't open his eyes, groaning in pain. His wrists burned and his hands were barely beginning to regain feeling. He brought his hand to his throat, which was covered with cool cloths. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pain it caused. He winced, pulling his hand away, and open his eyes. He was in Lithuania's room, and the other injured man was unconscious lying next to him on the bed. Belarus sat in a chair beside the bed, petting Lithuania's face gently. Gil looked around the room. No one else was there. Closed his eyes again, biting his lip. He didn't want to be alone with Belarus.

"You're awake," she said, her voice calm. It worried Gil.

"Ye-" he choked, coughing hard. He still couldn't talk. He hated not being able to talk.

"Don't hurt yourself," Belarus said flatly again. He couldn't tell if there was a hint of sarcasm in her voice or not. He kept watching her, afraid she would pull out one of her knives.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Belarus shook her head, "You can't fight back, and what would be the fun in that?"

Gil smirked a little. He could understand that. He watched her as she started changing the blood-soaked bandages around Lithuania's wrists and arms.

"How long…" his voice was a choked whisper, "Have you two…?" he couldn't keep talking. He knew he shouldn't keep talking.

"A long time…" She said gently, petting Toris's face, "I still hate you, by the way. Don't think that because I'm not dissecting you right now that I'm not mad at you. I am."

He would have laughed if he'd been able to. He wasn't sure if he was more amused, or terrified, but a laugh would work for either situation.

Belarus paused, sighing deeply as she slowly peeled the bandage off Lithuania's arm. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it gently, pressing it to her cheek as she looked at him.

"You really do love him, don't you?" Gil whispered, not knowing why he even wanted to talk to her.

She nodded, "Yes. Now…" She sighed again, and looked at Gil for a moment, before turning back to Lithuania's hand. "I didn't at first…" She kissed his fingers, "I broke these once, as I know you know…" She sighed. "It was on a forced date a few months before the official wedding… I didn't want to be there. He was flirting and I got mad…" She bit her lip, "I still hate myself for it… but he forgave me a long time ago." She sighed, looking up at Gil again.

He listened, too bored to do anything else, but also curious.

"I really did used to be obsessed with my brother… I really did want him to marry me, and I didn't care what anyone said," she took a cloth and started cleaning around the barbed-wire marks, being careful of Estonia's stitches, "But when my government decided I was going to marry Lithuania, I didn't have a choice. He loved me… but I hated him." Belarus reached up and touched his face gently, then turned back to his arm, finishing wrapping the new bandage around it. She slid closer to the bed and picked up his other arm, being just as gentle, "I was awful at first, but he was an angel… so kind. He would bring me flowers every day… he never touched me, not unless I let him… eventually… I really did fall in love with him. His heart… his kindness towards everything and everyone," she smiled, laughing a little as she turned to the wounds on his chest, "He couldn't even kill spiders. He'd just let them outside… but he hates himself. Even when we fell in love, he still doesn't think he's worth it. No matter how many times I tell him…" she sighed, "He's gotten too used to my brother…"

Gil turned away. He'd noticed. Lithuania took Russia's abuse willingly. He didn't fight back, didn't question it… as long as he was protecting someone else he didn't care what Russia did to him.

Belarus bit her lip, sighing deeply, "Then… the war tore us apart again, the first war… Torshka went to live with America, and I stayed here… with brother…" she looked down for a moment, almost like she was in pain. She turned to the wounds again, ignoring it, "When Russia took him back, I cried. I cried and cried… but I never let anyone see it except Liet. I hate that he's here… but there's a selfish side of me that can't imagine being away from him…" she bit her lip, "Keeping up with the 'marry me brother' thing was his idea. As long as Russia thinks I'm obsessed with him he won't suspect. No one knows we actually fell in love… they all think I still hate him… We try and keep it that way. Russia thinks I hate him, so when he wants to make me upset, he treats him extra kindly, and won't hurt him. He thinks it bothers me because he's giving Torshka attention, good attention… he doesn't know that's the whole idea. Keep him away from me, keep him from hurting Torshka, and keep him from finding out about us."

Gil nodded, he understood. It was a good plan. He was impressed by it even, and by her acting skills. She wasn't as crazy and psychopathic as he'd originally thought. She almost seemed normal.

Belarus laid a fresh gauze over one of the deepest pipe-made gashes, stitched expertly by Estonia. She sighed, looking down at Lithuania's legs, now wrapped in bandages. She couldn't help with that. No one could help with it. He would just have to heal. She touched his face gently again, petting his cheek. She looked back down at his body and shook her head, "My brother didn't use to be like this…" She bit her lip, trying not to cry, "He was a good child… he… he was unkind sometimes, and it wasn't easy for him growing up, General Winter…" She stopped. She couldn't finish that sentence, "He cared about people. Some of the Tzars and Tzarinas were cruel to them, and him, but he fought for his people, and stood beside his rulers, trying to help both sides, trying to create happiness… joy… It sounds crazy to say it now, but that smile… it used to be real…" She brought her hand to her face, brushing away tears, "He had a beautiful smile, it could light up a whole room as cheesy as that sounds… He can dance, and sing, and paint… write… his life has never been easy, his country has always struggled. The people have always struggled. There's been… a sadness over everything… for as long as I can remember. But he would try his best to bring the joy back…" she closed her eyes, letting the tears slip down her cheeks. "You shouldn't have brought up the Romanovs, Gil…" She shook her head.

"How-?" he couldn't choke the words out.

"I heard him crying… crying their names…" She shook her head, "And he went upstairs, Gil he never goes upstairs, the ghosts… they scare him. He hates them… he says he-" _that he betrayed them._ She looked down again, then back up at Gil, "He changed, Gil… the revolution… it changed him. It started on Bloody Sunday. He snapped. I wasn't there, but Torshka was. He said he'd never seen Ivan like that before. It changed him. He lost something that day… like… like he turned off something that made him care about people? And then the Bolsheviks… when they killed the family, the children…" She was almost sobbing now, "I love them too, Gil… I really did… they were… so sweet, so wonderful… Ana and I used to climb trees together, and Olga was a better shot than even I am… she even managed to beat Ivan in a little contest once…" She bit her lip, trying to force the tears to stop, "They killed them. He went to see them and… when he came back from that trip… he was different. It was like…" she shook her head, "It was like looking into my brother's face, but he wasn't there…" She tried to control the sobs.

Gil turned away, he couldn't watch her cry. It almost scared him that Belarus was crying. And Russia, kind? Joyful? He'd only ever known him as cruel.

"He wasn't perfect before, not by a long shot… but he wasn't what he is now. He would never have done this," she motioned to Lithuania's body, "before the revolution, never," she shook her head. "He only got worse when the government changed… his people were taken away in the middle of the night and killed, people started talking about Siberia as a place no one ever comes back from… and even now, what's he's doing to Poland, to you, to Torshka… he never would have done this. I won't pretend he was kind to Torshka before. He wasn't… but the scars…" She bit her lip hard, "He never would have done that! Never!"

Gil couldn't reply, and he didn't want to. He had nothing good to say about her brother, and he didn't want her any more angry with him than she already was.

"This is your fault! I know you told him a secret that only Toris knew! What's wrong with you!? Why didn't you think!?" She stood, angry. "My brother wouldn't have done this if it wasn't for you!" She pulled out her knife, and stopped, feeling Toris's hand close around her wrist weakly. She dropped the knife and leaned down to touch his face. "Torshka?" she whispered, her voice worried, tender.

He smiled at her weakly and turned to look at Gil, the smile fading.

"He's only in here because it's easier to help both of you in the same room…" Belarus said, annoyed. She regretted telling him anything. "If you tell Russia what I told you, I'll murder you, cut you into pieces, and make you into soup for Russia." She glared at him.

"Natashka…" Lithuania whispered with a sigh, "Please…"

She sighed, looking back at him, "Why? He betrayed you! This is his fault! If he hadn't told Russia that secret you wouldn't be lying here right now nearly d-" She couldn't say it.

Lithuania closed his eyes with a sigh again, and looked up at her, "Let me talk to him for a while, please?"

"But-"

"Natya…"

She sighed, nodding, "All right, my love." She leaned down and kissed his bruised cheek gently, then walked out of the room.

Gil didn't look at Lithuania, preparing himself for what he hoped was blame and accusation.

"You know… you really are as stupid as you… look sometimes…" Toris said weakly.

Gil said nothing. He didn't trust his voice to make sound.

"How did you…get to me, Gil? You… couldn't stand…" Lithuania turned to look at him, confused, worried.

Gil looked back, sighing, "I don't know… I just…" his voice wouldn't work. He shrugged weakly.

Lithuania turned away again, impressed. Two flights of stairs and several long hallways, "You didn't think…he'd hurt me, did you?" he sighed.

Gil shook his head, "Nein… Liet I would nev-" he closed his eyes in pain.

"Stop talking, you idiot…" Lithuania shook his head weakly, turning back to look at Gil.

Gil sighed. He could feel his hands starting to shake.

"I… don't know if I can…forgive you yet…" Lithuania sighed, "But… but thank you… for coming back… for me…" he didn't look at Gil as he spoke, breathing hard from the effort it took just to say the few sentences.

"Danke…" Gil whispered, wincing in pain, bringing his hand to his throat. He could taste metal again. _Stop talking._ He didn't know if he would listen to himself, but that didn't stop him from trying.

Lithuania flinched slightly as the door opened.

It was Hungary. She carried a tray of medical supplies and a bag of fresh ice for both of their legs. She walked in, smiling at Lithuania, "You're awake!"

Lithuania nodded slowly with a soft smile.

"I'd ask how you're feeling but…"

Lithuania smiled still, "I'm getting there."

"Don't tell me you've had worse."

"He didn't kill me this time," Lithuania smiled sadly.

Hungary could tell it was supposed to be a half-joke, but it made her feel sick. T _his time?_ She turned to Gil, pulling up a chair beside him. She sighed, looking into his face, "You haven't seen your legs yet, have you?" She whispered.

He shook his head weakly, pressing his hand against his neck. The cloth over it had warmed. He pulled it away.

Hungary took it from him, setting it aside and inspecting the bruises on his swollen neck. They were still dark. She touched the sides of his neck gently, "Does that hurt?"

He nodded, inhaling through his teeth.

"Ok…" she took her hands away and took a fresh cloth from a small bowl of ice water on the tray. She wrung the extra water out of the white cloth and laid it over his neck gently.

He relaxed a little, the cold soothing against the tender skin. He looked up at her with a faint smile.

Hungary smiled back, turning to his legs. She moved the blanket.

Gil shivered with cold, noticing that he was wearing only his shorts. He could feel the ice packs on his legs stopped above his knees. He was afraid to look as Hungary started moving the ice.

Hungary sighed deeply as she emptied the old ice from the last pack into a bucket beside the bed. Before filling the bags with new ice, she would rub some salve into the bruising.

"Do you want the painkillers now?" She asked kindly.

Gil nodded, then sighed, realizing she must have seen his arms.

She noticed, "Yeah, I know. And you'll hear all about it later, but for now, you need them. Two syringes, right?"

He held up three fingers, hoping she'd actually listen to him.

She raised an eyebrow, "Estonia said you take two." She wasn't buying it, but he was in pain. She gave him two and a half. "No more. Not until tomorrow," She shook her head.

He nodded, relaxing as the pain started to fade along with the images in his head. He looked back at Hungary as she turned to the cloths on his legs. He was nervous. He could barely feel them, but they hurt.

Hungary peeled the clothes back from Gil's legs, setting them aside to be replaced. She sighed deeply. Gil's legs were almost black with bruises and broken blood vessels. They were swollen, especially around his ankles, the skin pulled so tight she was afraid of it splitting if she wasn't careful.

Gil turned away, shocked, terrified.

"They will heal, Gil… they'll just… take a while…" She bit her lip, picking up the salve she'd brought. It was strong and would help with the swelling, which was becoming more concerning. If it didn't go down soon, she would have to call Estonia for more drastic measures, and she didn't want to have to be the one to help, not that she would let anyone else. She gently pressed the salve into his skin, being careful not even to rub it, afraid of damaging it. Just the color of the once-white skin was disturbing: dark purple, black, navy blue and dark red. They looked worse than Lithuania's. She took fresh cool clothes from the bag of ice, wrung them out, and placed them over Gil's legs, refilling the ice packs and laying them gently on top of the cloth. She pulled the covers back over his legs.

"Do your wrists hurt?"

He nodded.

She lifted one, unwrapping the bandage and inspecting the stitches. They were holding well this time, though she could see where the old ones had split. It still didn't look like it would scar, which was relieving.

"Poland asked if you were all right, Gil," she said as she continued to clean and dry his wrists, wrapping them in new bandages.

Gil turned to look at her, confused.

"He didn't say much more, but just asked if you were ok while I was getting the fresh ice. I told him you're doing fine, but it'll be a while before you're back to normal."

Gil looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

"That's it," she nodded, "Just asked if you were ok. Latvia's the one who's really worried though, he wants to come in here but… I don't know if I want him to have to see you two yet…"

"He's seen worse," Lithuania whispered, "Let him in."

"Gil?"

Gil nodded. He missed Latvia. He hadn't really seen him since Berlin, not that he'd seen much of anything except the stone cell in the basement since Berlin.

"All right, I'll let him come in and see you. That'll make him happy, for sure." Hungary finished bandaging Gil's other wrist and looked to Lithuania, "Belarus helped you already I see…" she nodded, "I'll go then." She stood, picking up the medical supplies.

Gil watched her leave, unable to ask her to stay longer. He missed her too.

She stopped at the door, looking back at him, forcing herself to smile, but let her face grow stern, "Don't think I'm not mad at you about the drugs, Gil. I am. And you're going to get it once you're better for it… just… rest up, ok? Get better? Just get better," she nodded, walking out the door and closing it behind her.

Gil sighed, looking down at the blankets covering his legs. He'd done more damage than he'd thought. He was worried, and very, very glad he wasn't human. He looked over at Lithuania, who'd fallen back asleep. He closed his eyes, trying to do the same. He opened them immediately. The drugs weren't working.

* * *

A/N: This is a bit of a filler chapter, but we learn some important information about Russia here! About how he used to be, and how he is now. Perhaps this will bring some sympathy back for him? Also, Belarus can switch between aggressive and crying pretty easily herself... maybe it runs in the family? And Liet didn't actually forgive Gil here! He's not perfect! Not entirely! (Actually, I think his biggest flaw is that he literally thinks nothing of himself. As I kinda mentioned in this chapter. He doesn't have a SCRAP of self-esteem left. Not a scrap. He sees himself as existing to protect the others, which isn't a healthy place to be mentally, even if he actually is saving them sometimes. He's not doing well either. Not that any of them are. Hungary is one of the only stable people in this whole house, and she hits people with frying pans! (Gil's legs... *wince* If he were human...)

Some Russian history in this chapter, as well as light discussion of Belarusian and Lithuanian relations... (they are currently friends in modern history btw!) I recommend researching Russian history. It's quite interesting! Though usually a bit sad... :/

Reviews are deeply appreciated! As always, reviewers are given cookies, cocoa, and lemonade (because it's getting super hot... being summer... I'm dying of heat... URGH! *wishes for winter and SNOW and COLD! YAY!*) anyway, I will reply to all I can, as always! Theories are always welcome! I always enjoy reading your predictions! For those of you waiting for more action and adventure, (and dark stuff...) have no fear it is coming soon! But after finding Liet like that... healing must take place first!


	35. Chapter 35: Comfort

Chapter 35

"G-Gil? A-a-are you you y-you ok?"

Gil smiled, waking as he felt Latvia's hand on his arm. He nodded, opening his eyes. He hadn't heard the smaller country come in, "Latvia-"

Latvia slapped him.

He winced, keeping his face away from the blond. His heart ached, he knew he deserved the strike.

"That's for h-hurting Lithy!" Latvia brushed tears away from his cheeks, and wrapped his arms around Gil, hugging him as best as he could, "And and and and that's for n-not letting him die…"

Gil put his hand on Latvia's back as the little country's body shook with sobs. He turned to look at him again, sighing.

Latvia looked up at Gil with a gentle smile, "A-are you ok?"

He smiled back weakly, nodding. He glanced at the bandages on his wrists, then close his eyes, realizing nothing was covering the marks in his arms. He turned away, not wanting Latvia to notice them.

"It's ok, Gil… I al-already know," Latvia sighed.

Gil closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Latvia, "Who-" he asked weakly, his voice still almost too choked to make sound.

"No one. I figured it out…" Latvia looked down for a moment, then back up at Gil, "Estonia noticed the painkillers go-going missing…" he bit his lip, "So he asked me if I-I-I was taking them a-again… I'm not, so I knew it-it must be you…" he looked down.

"What?" Gil asked, lifting Latvia's chin gently, looking into the boy's face. _He didn't. He couldn't have…_

Latvia sighed, "Mmhmm. They made m-me sick, so… I stopped," Latvia brought his hands to his upper arms, "I know it was dumb… b-but… I get it. It's hard…" He looked into Gil's face, a few tears slipping down his cheeks, "Now I just drink too much," he shrugged.

Gil sighed, it felt like Latvia was staring into his soul. He hated it. He didn't think he wanted Latvia to see what was there.

"Y-you have to stop, Gil… p-please you have to stop… please…" Latvia brought his hands to his face, crying.

Gil closed his eyes, tears sliding down his face into his hair. He looked back at Latvia, reaching over to brush the boy's tears away.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered, closing his eyes again.

Latvia sighed, looking up, "I hate watching you do this to yourself! Why are you doing this? Why do want Russia to hurt you?"

Gil looked away, shaking his head. _Because I hate what I am. I hate who I am… I hate what I've done, to Poland, to my brother…_ He looked back at Latvia with a sigh. He still couldn't talk.

"I'm going to fix you," Latvia wiped the tears away, "You're going to stop those drugs. I'm g-gonna make you stop them!"

Gil smiled a little, trying to give Latvia some hope. He wasn't going to stop. "Latvia…" he tried to choke out words.

"No! You don't get to argue with me! You're getting better! I'm not letting you not get better…" Latvia leaned forward on the bed, burying his face in his arms, sobbing.

 _Prussia looked over at Ludwig, the boy's head on his arms on the bed, sobbing at his side. He held back a groan of pain. He looked down at the bandages on his chest and arms, then back at his brother. He reached over carefully and pet his blond hair._

 _"_ _Gil, you're awake!" Ludwig looked up, brushing the tears away from his eyes._

 _Prussia nodded, turning away suddenly so Ludwig wouldn't see the pain on his face._

 _"_ _Are… are you ok?" Ludwig touched his brother's hair, petting it gently._

 _Prussia nodded again, trying to breathe. His entire body ached, everything hurt. The deep wound in his side was the worst. "How long have I been…?" He whispered, his voice thick with pain._

 _"_ _Almost two weeks… the French they… they took Berlin!" Ludwig's little hands clenched into angry fists, "But we'll get it back! I know we will!"_

 _Prussia smiled a little. His brother was always so hopeful. He winced again. The defeat had been had. He'd lost over 10,000 men on the battlefield, and almost 15,000 more had been captured. He turned to Ludwig again, worried as the boy doubled over, coughing hard, shaking._

 _"_ _Engelchen? (Little Angel)" Prussia forced himself to sit up, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, "Bruder?" He lifted the boy's chin, gasping a little, angry as he saw blood on his bother's lips._

 _"_ _I'm… I'm ok…" Ludwig brushed away the blood, smiling up at his brother._

 _"_ _Berlin?" Prussia bit his lip, afraid the war had hurt his brother more than he thought._

 _Ludwig nodded, looking up at Prussia, "It's not as bad as you but…" He shook his head, "You lost another 14,000 men… maybe that's why you're so sick…" He started coughing again, his whole body shaking._

 _Prussia forced himself to pull himself up, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. He lifted Ludwig into his arms, cradling the boy as he coughed so hard it felt like he would break._

 _"_ _I've got you…" Prussia whispered, kissing his brother's head, holding him, not caring as he felt his brother's blood drip down his arm. "I've got you they won't hurt you… I promise I won't let France kill you. I promise…"_

 _"_ _It hurts…"_

 _Prussia winced himself, the pain so intense he almost couldn't think enough to speak. "I know…" he whispered through grit teeth, holding Ludwig tighter, "But I won't let them kill you." He closed his eyes, trying to hold back tears as his brother wrapped his little arms around his neck, leaning on his shoulder, crying and coughing._

 _"_ _Are you… sure?" he whispered._

 _Prussia nodded, "I'm sure."_

 _"_ _I trust you…" Ludwig tried to relax, tried to stop coughing. He brushed the blood away from his lips and planted a kiss on his brother's cheek, "Ich liebe dich, bruder…"_

 _Prussia held him until he fell asleep. He turned, laying the child on the bed beside him. He pulled the blankets back over himself, unable to hold back a quiet cry of pain. He looked back to his brother, petting the almost white-blond hair gently. He would never let anyone hurt him. Never. No matter what it cost him. He would never let anyone hurt him._

Gil brought his hand to his face, covering his eyes, turning away from Latvia. He didn't want to cry. He couldn't cry. He wouldn't cry.

"Promise me…" Latvia sobbed, looking back up at Gil, pulling his hand away from his face, pointing to the needle marks in his arm, "P-p-pr-promise me you'll s-stop this!" his voice was choked with tears, but angry.

Gil looked away, "I can't…" He shook his head.

Latvia threw Gil's arm down, angry, hurt, and still crying. He stood, walking towards the door.

"Where are-" Gil tried to speak, reaching for Latvia, trying to catch his coat before he moved out of reach. He wasn't fast enough.

Latvia spoke without looking back at him, "I'm-I'm not going to watch you slowly die! I'm n-not going to! I c-can't! I-I-I-I won't!" He ran out of the room.

Gil closed his eyes, still fighting tears. He turned to look at Lithuania, who was awake, watching silently. Gil let himself look into the other country's face.

Lithuania turned away.

…

Hungary let the knife slam through the beets into the cutting board a little harder than was necessary. She noticed Belarus doing the same. Neither of them spoke. Hungary almost wanted to break the silence, but Belarus was holding a knife, so she thought better of it. The blonde country wasn't as violent as most of the other's thought she was, but she was still unpredictable. Hungary stacked the slices of beets and chopped them into long strips, tossing them into the bowl beside her and taking another of the vegetables from the sink. They weren't as bad as she'd expected them to be, but they stained her fingers pink, which she didn't particularly like. She glanced at Belarus again, still not sure if she should speak.

"I won't hurt Gil, if that's what you're worried about," Belarus said finally.

"Who said I was worried about that?" Hungary asked casually. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hug Gil, or hit him with a frying pan. He was an idiot…but the look in his eyes was one she'd never seen from him before: defeat. Even after lost battles, his beautiful red eyes were never defeated, they were never anything less than strong and proud. He'd given up, and that made her angry.

"I can tell," Belarus sighed, "You're worried about him. I can tell that too."

"Oh?" Hungary asked, trying to sound less concerned than she really was.

"You should be…" Belarus sighed, stopping cutting the potatoes for a moment, turning to Hungary, "There are four new ghosts here…" she bit her lip, unsure if she wanted to talk about it.

"Ghosts?" Hungary stopped her own vegetable chopping, and turned to Belarus, wiping her pink hands on her apron.

"There are lots of ghosts in this house, Elizabeta… lots of ghosts. Almost all of them are kind, though there are a few that would rather play pranks than behave… none of them are dangerous…" She shook her head.

"And the new ghosts… are they… dangerous?" Hungary wasn't afraid, just concerned.

Belarus shook her head, "No… they're sad… Liz, they're so sad…"

Hungary stared, shocked as Belarus did something she'd never seen from the girl: she started sobbing. Hungary wasn't sure how to react for a moment, then stepped forward, extending her arms to hug Belarus, who accepted the gesture to her surprise.

"They're thin and scared and so so sad… It hurts to see them… they're in so much pain…" Belarus sobbed, almost choking with tears, "And one of them is a child… Liz, he's so young… he's like a skeleton I don't… I can't…" she couldn't speak, her whole body shaking with sobs, clinging to Hungary.

Hungary held her tightly, trying to comfort her, "Do… do you know why they're here?"

Belarus nodded, trying to regain her composure, "They said they're here… for Gilbert Beilschmidt…"

"For Gil!?" Hungary gasped, worried, "Why? Are they going to hurt him?"

Belarus shook her head, "No they're not angry! They're not angry at all… just… sad… I don't know how to explain it! Every time I see them I cry. It hurts to see them. They're in so much pain…" she covered her face with her hands.

Hungary winced, "You're sure they don't want to hurt him? That they're not angry?" Why weren't they angry? They had every right to be angry. Did they know he didn't know?

Belarus nodded, "I'm sure. They're not angry. They're not angry at all… I… I didn't talk to them much… I was crying and they were upset. They didn't like making me cry so they went away… I… I don't want to see them anymore, but I do sometimes. They… they break my heart, Liz… I don't know how else to explain it… they're all so thin… so sad…" she shook her head, trying to brush away her tears, "If anyone comes in…" she sniffed, turning back to the chopping board, "I was cutting onions, understood?" She pointed the knife at Hungary.

Hungary nodded, stepping back, putting her hands up, "Very understood," she turned back to the beets again.

A crash rang through the hallway and a loud cry of pain followed it.

Hungary dropped the knife on the cutting board and ran through the kitchen door, rounding the corner to find Poland on the ground, a tray of former dishes on the ground. Almost everything had broken, and Poland's leg bled. She ripped off her apron and knelt beside him, wrapping the white cloth around his leg, pressing into the wound.

"It's… not bad…" Poland shook his head, recoiling at her touch a little.

"What happened, Lelkem (honey/sweetie)?" She asked, pushing his hair out of his face gently.

He shook his head, pulling away, wrapping his arms around himself, almost kicking her back.

She pulled her hands away immediately, looking at him tenderly, worried. She paused before she spoke, hoping it would give him a moment to calm down, "Flashbacks?" she asked finally, gently.

He nodded, bringing his hands to his ears, shaking his head, kicking at nothing.

"Sh… Sh…" she tried to calm him without touching him, "Sh, you're ok…"

He shook his head, "No I'm not…" he whispered.

"Yes, you are…" She moved closer as he stopped kicking. "You're ok. You're right here, I'm right here. No one's hurting you, it's ok… you're ok…"

"No, I'm not ok!" he shouted, slamming his fists into the ground, looking up at her, "Look at me…"

"Feliks…" She whispered, looking down, closing her eyes with a sigh.

"I said 'look at me!'" he bit his lip, trying to fight the tears.

She listened, looking into her cousin's face, sliding around to sit beside him, leaning up against the wall, "Feliks…?"

He wiped away his tears, looking away from her, "I'm a mess… I can't do anything without…" he shook his head, the tears refusing to be held back, "without seeing things… feeling things… I hate it… I hate it and I can't stop it!" he slammed his fists on the ground again, "I want to get better, Liz…" he shook his head, almost choking with sobs, "I want to get better…" he looked up at her, tears streaming, "Why can't I get better?"

Hungary closed her eyes, a few tears slipping down her own cheeks, "You are… you are getting better. I promise you, I've seen it. I've seen how strong you are. I know how strong you are. You're going to be ok, you're going to get better…"

Poland turned, hugging her, letting his head rest on her shoulder, sobbing. He moved his legs over her lap, still sitting on the ground, so he could hug tighter, pulling his knees up towards his chest, curling up, trying to protect himself, trying to feel normal.

Hungary wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, petting his hair. She let more tears fall. He hadn't let her hug him, not once. She hadn't held him since before the war. He hadn't let anyone touch him. She rested her head on his, petting the soft blond strands, pressing his head into her shoulder, holding him.

"I just want to be me again…" he whispered, licking the tears off his lips.

"You will be," Hungary nodded, brushing the tears away from her eyes quickly before letting her arm return to his shoulders, holding him, "You will be, I promise."

"I just want to be ok…" his voice shook with tears again, "I just want to be ok…" he pressed his face into her shoulder, trying not to sob again.

"It's ok…" she whispered, "It's ok, I've got you. You can cry, it's ok, I won't tell anyone…" she shook her head, petting his hair. She could feel him shake with sobs again, his tears soaking the shoulder of her dress. She didn't care, "It's ok," she whispered, kissing the top of his head, "It's ok, I've got you."

* * *

A/N: Lots of tears in this chapter. Some healing, some not... As Gil wants to loose himself, Poland wants himself back... Gil's getting worse, Poland is healing...

More Latvia and Young!Ludwig for you! Yay! The battle Prussia is referring too, by the way, is the Battle of Jena–Auerstedt durring the napolionic wars. It's an interesting read if you have the time! History, YAY!

Belarus can see the ghosts too... hmm...

Not much to say about this one. I feel like it's a bit of a filler again, and isn't my favorite chapter... (though I do love the Hungary and Poland scene in the end of this!) But I will be jumping ahead a bit soon, and there are some (hopefully good!) surprises coming! Though more angst for some of these characters!

As always, I love to read your reviews! Reviewers are given cookies and fresh berries and cream from my garden! As well as tea, cocoa, and hugs!

Updates may slow to only a few times a week, as I am starting work as hair desiner on a film. I've been working on it for months now, but we actually start shooting on Monday and I have 5am call times... so... but I will still continue to update I promise! We only shoot through August, so I won't be gone forever! Thank you all again for your continued support! :D


	36. Chapter 36: Defiance

Chapter 36

"How are you feeling, Ptitska?"

Gil jumped awake, looking into Russia's face. He was back in his own room, and Russia sat in the chair beside his bed. He blinked hard, wincing, the images of people and soldiers flashing in front of him. His hands shook.

 _No… no no no not now…_ he could feel his heart beating fast. He looked at the clock. Hungary was supposed to be there with another dose soon. He needed it. He clenched his fists, trying to pass it off as fear as he shivered.

"Is something wrong?" Russia's voice was cold, a smile on his face.

Gil looked at him, his breathing growing harder as he shivered again, he was freezing. He shook his head, "No, I'm fine," he snapped. His voice had improved considerably since the previous week, and he could actually put some weight on his legs again, though he couldn't walk without help. He shivered again, trying to avoid Russia's gaze. He winced as Russia grabbed his face, turning it towards him. He closed his eyes, trying not to look at Russia, grateful for the bandages around his arms.

"Look at me," Russia ordered.

Gil kept his eyes closed.

Russia slapped him, grabbing his face again, "I said, 'look at me'!"

Gil opened his eyes, they were more red than usual, bloodshot and tired. He looked up into Russia's violet eyes, shaking.

Russia said nothing, letting go of Gil's face. He grabbed the white-haired country's right arm, tearing the gauze bandages away, grabbing at the bruised and marked skin.

Gil winced, inhaling through his teeth. He shivered again, closing his eyes and immediately opening them with a gasp. He turned to look at his arm, then up at Russia.

"How long has it been since your last dose?" Russia asked coldly, grabbing Gil's face again, turning it to look into the man's eyes.

Gil didn't answer, he didn't have to. Hungary walked in as if on cue. She carried a tray of fresh bandages and pain killers. She froze as she saw Russia.

"Oh, you're here," she tried to sound casual, carrying the supplies in as if nothing was out of the ordinary, "He's healing quite well. He can almost walk now-"

"You've been giving him the drugs?" Russia raised an eyebrow, surprised.

Hungary shook her head, "No. I just give him painkillers as needed, just like I would for anyone."

Russia smiled.

It sent a shiver down Hungary's spine. She didn't want to admit to fear, but she was terrified.

"Well, if you just give him normal painkillers… why don't you set the tray down here?" Russia motioned to the bedside table near his chair, "I can take care of him today. He is mine after all. I take care of what's mine," he smiled.

Gil shivered. He hated this. All of it.

"Oh, it's no trouble for me, Mr. Russia," Hungary smiled sweetly, picking up the tray, "I'm sure you have a lot to do and-"

"I would like to, please, set the tray here, Hungary," Russia's face held a smile, but his tone was an order, not a request.

Hungary picked up the tray, giving an apologetic glance to Gil. She set the supplies next to Russia and turned to leave.

"No, stay," Russia ordered again, lifting Gil's wrist and beginning to untie the bandage.

Hungary obeyed reluctantly, walking back closer to them, "Would you like help with the bandages?" She asked, hiding her hands behind her back. She didn't want Gil to see them trembling.

Russia shook his head, "Oh no, I know how to do this, don't worry." He unwrapped the bandage slowly, inspecting Gil's wrist. "This is healing quite well!" he smiled, satisfied, "Next time I'll loosen the handcuffs for you, as long as you ask nicely," he smiled.

Gil shivered again. _Next time?_ He knew he couldn't avoid it, but he didn't want to think about it. He wouldn't struggle next time. He wouldn't give Russia the satisfaction of having to loosen the cuffs. He'd be careful.

Russia touched the healing wound around Gil's wrist, just hard enough to cause discomfort, but not pain, "Yes, this is healing very well!" He turned to the other wrist, repeating the process, also pleased with it's healing. "Now," he smiled with the same un-childlike innocent as usual, "The drugs."

"They're just painkillers for because he's injured…" Hungary tried to break in.

Russia smiled, turning to the tray and filling a syringe with exactly one dose of the painkillers, measured perfectly. "Well then, this should be enough, shouldn't it?"

Gil rolled his hands into fists, his whole body begging for more. It wasn't enough. His heart beat faster, his breathing quickening. He groaned in pain, turning away from Hungary as Russia pulled the needle from his arm.

"Was that enough, Gil?" he asked sweetly, smiling.

Hungary closed her eyes, taking a step back, "I… I think I should go…" she turned, stopping as she felt Russia's hand close around her wrist, tightly.

"Nyet. Stay," he ordered, pulling her back towards the bed where Gil squirmed, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists. "Well, Ptitska? Was that enough?" Russia's voice was ice.

Gil shook his head, "You know it's not…" he whispered through grit teeth.

"And what would you do for more?" Russia asked, taking the bottle and filling the syringe with another single dose.

"What do you want?" Gil whispered, crying out in pain as faces flashed in front of him.

"Tell me your name," Russia smiled, setting the bottle down, holding the syringe near Gil's arm, agonizingly close to his skin, holding his arm down from moving towards it.

"Gilbert…" he whispered, knowing it wasn't the right answer.

Russia slipped the needle into his skin, but didn't release the drug, "What. is. your. name?"

Gil winced, setting his jaw, "German Democratic Republic." He gasped as the painkillers released into his blood. It wasn't enough. The images were worse, the pain increasing. He couldn't keep playing this game. He needed more. He looked up at Russia, his bloodshot eyes begging.

"You could try asking me, GDR," Russia smiled still, looking into Gil's face, picking up the small vial again.

Gil turned away, groaning in pain again as his body ached, desperate for more. He shook his head, "Nein…" He whispered through his teeth.

Russia looked up to Hungary, "Lizashka, why don't you tell him he doesn't have to do this to himself? All he has to do is ask me…"

Hungary bit her lip, looking back at Gil, sighing as his face met her's, "Gil…" she couldn't tell him to give in to Russia, but she couldn't watch this. She couldn't watch Russia doing this to him. "Please, Russia…"

"See?" Russia smiled, turning Gil's face to his own again, "She'll ask me. Is your pride getting in the way?"

Gil set his jaw, looking up at Russia with as much hatred as he could find through the pain.

"Look at yourself, Gil. What pride can you possibly have left?" Russia let go of Gil's face, taking the bottle of medicine again. He slid the needle into the vial, holding it up so Gil could watch him slowly fill the syringe to the top.

Gil shivered again, unsure how much longer he could hold on without giving in. He needed more. He felt sick, the burning smell infecting the room. He shook his head, he couldn't do this…

Russia smiled up at Hungary for a moment, before pressing the needle against, but not into, Gil's arm.

Gil winced, bringing his hand to his chest as his heart sped faster. He tried to breathe, tried for force oxygen into his lungs.

Hungary turned away, she couldn't see him like this.

"I believe," Russia said without turning to her, "That I ordered you to watch."

Hungary glared at the back of Russia's head, setting her jaw to keep the tears back. She brought her hands to her upper arms, gripping them, trying to force herself to look at Gil. She felt powerless, she hated feeling powerless.

"Well, GDR? I know you need this…" Russia's voice held a twisted compassion.

Gil shivered, looking back at Russia, staring into the face that only smiled in return. He closed his eyes, turning away, "Russland, bitte…" he whispered.

"What was that?" Russia grabbed his face again, turning it towards himself.

Gil winced, his heartbeat fast enough to draw a gasp of pain from him. He looked into Russia's face, setting his jaw, "Russia… please… please…"

Hungary closed her eyes, looking away, fighting tears.

Russia smiled, letting go of Gil's face and petting his cheek patronizingly, "Well done. That wasn't so hard, was it?" He slid the needle into Gil's arm and released the medicine.

Gil sighed in relief, the drugs working almost instantly. They still weren't enough, but he could feel his heartbeat finally starting to slow. "Danke…" he whispered, hoping it would please Russia enough to give him more.

"You're a fast learner," Russia smiled. He filled a syringe with another single dose and gave it to Gil without another question, "See? I reward fast learning," he smiled.

Gil felt sick. He hated this. How had he let this happen to himself? He hated this.

"Now," Russia continued, filling another syringe full of a single dose, "What's your name?"

"German Democratic Republic," Gil whispered, giving Russia the answer he wanted. _My name is Prussia._

"Khorosho!" Russia smiled, giving Gil the drug, filling the syringe again with another dose. "Who do you belong to?"

"The Soviet Union… you…" Gil whispered still, closing his eyes, fighting tears. He hated this. _I don't belong to anyone._

Another dose.

"And the wall, is a good thing, da?"

"Ja…" Gil set his jaw. _No. It's not. It's not and I HATE IT._

Another dose.

"And the people that try and cross the wall? They're disloyal to you, and deserve to die?"

Gil closed his eyes, he couldn't say it. He needed the drugs, his body still begging him for more, his hands still shaking. "Ja, they deserve it…" he let the tears fall. _No. Never. Never…_

Another dose.

"And that… spy… the one you shot? She deserved her fate, da?" Russia smiled, filling another full syringe, holding it to Gil's arm.

Hungary bit her lip, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Gil looked back at Russia, his eyes begging, "Please… please don't make me answer that… please… bitte…"

Russia slapped him, then grabbed his face, "I asked, you if the spy, the double agent, that you shot on my order, deserved it."

Gil looked into Russia's face, "Bitte…"

"And you said you didn't love her…" Russia smirked, shaking his head. He pressed the needle into Gil's arm, grabbing the man's white hair, holding his head back, "Say it. Say she deserved it."

Gil closed his eyes, tears falling down his cheeks into his hair. He couldn't do it. His hands shook. He gaged, the burning smell overwhelming him. He needed the last dose. He couldn't do it, "Ja… ja she deserved it…" _Nein… Adelaide I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry…._

Russia grinned, letting go of Gil's hair, pressing the syringe, granting Gil's body the drugs it needed. He smiled as he saw the smaller nation relax, the drugs taking effect quickly, "You've done well, GDR," he giggled, ruffling Gil's hair. He turned back to Hungary.

Hungary wiped her tears quickly, looking at Russia with hatred in her eyes. She shook her head, "You freak…" she whispered.

Russia stood, grabbing Hungary's neck, bringing her to her knees.

"Russland, Nein!" Prussia sat up, reaching for Russia, begging.

Hungary squirmed, bringing her hands to her neck, trying to pry Russia's fingers from her throat. She looked up at him, even angrier than before. "Go ahead… hurt me. Hurt me like you hurt the others…" she choked, Russia's grip tightening. "I dare you…" she whispered.

Prussia tried to stand, falling to the ground, his legs refusing to work. He looked up at Russia, "Russia please…"

Russia laughed, letting go of Hungary's neck to grab Prussia's hair, dragging him forward and throwing him back to the ground, "There. You'll have a better view from there." He smiled, grabbing Hungary's hair, pulling her head up as she coughed hard. He smiled, forcing her to look into his face. He pulled out his pipe.

Hungary stared up at him defiantly, "Go ahead."

"Russia please…" Gil knew he wasn't strong enough to fight Russia. He grabbed at the man's coat, "Please, Russia, do anything to me, but don't hurt her, please…"

Russia kicked him away.

Gil fell back, gripping his ribs where Russia's boot had bruised them. He winced, looking back up to Russia as he raised the pipe.

Hungary reached up, catching the cold metal before it hit her. She looked up at Russia, angry, "I'm stronger than your usual prey!" she snarled, delivering a well aimed punch below his belt.

Russia doubled over, staggering back in pain for a moment.

Hungary wrenched the pipe away from him, swinging it at his head.

Russia caught it, standing, giving the pipe a hard pull, letting Hungary trip in front of him. He kicked her back, smiling as her head hit the ground with a crack.

"Elizabeta!" Prussia reached for her, worried.

Hungary sat up, pulling her hand from her head, her fingers bloody, "Is that all you've got?" she snapped.

Russia kicked her down again, pressing her right hand into the ground with his boot.

She looked up at him, terrified for a moment, before screaming in pain as he crushed her hand into the ground.

Russia grabbed her wrist, pulling her up, turning her arm to look at her broken hand, "Next time you try something like that again, I won't just break your hand," his voice was ice. He slid his hand up the pipe until he was holding it near the faucet, letting the crook of it cover his knuckles. He smashed it against her face twice, dropping her arm and leaving her on the ground.

Hungary didn't move.

Russia smiled, turning back to Gil, kicking his legs hard. "That's for trying to get in my way."

Gil cried out in pain, leaning over to protect his legs with his arms. Russia grabbed his hair, dragging him back towards the bed, away from Hungary.

"I'll be back tomorrow for your next dose, Gil. I hope it easier for yourself," he sighed, shaking his head, upset. He walked out of the room without another word.

Prussia dragged himself back to Hungary, moving her hair away from her face. He shuddered, "Liz…?" he whispered.

Hungary groaned in pain weakly, closing her eyes tightly.

"Liz, are you…?" It felt like a stupid question, so he didn't ask it.

She nodded slowly, forcing herself to sit up. She put her hand to her head, dizzy.

Prussia caught her shoulders, "Hey, careful… careful…"

Hungary looked up at him weakly, blood dripping from her face, "I'm sorry, Gil… I'm sorry I tried to-"

"It's ok. Please, it's ok… are… are you all right?"

She nodded weakly, looking back at her broken right hand, touching her face with her left, pulling it away, sighing at the amount of blood she saw, "I probably look like a mess, huh?"

"I've seen you worse," he shrugged.

She smiled, "Yeah…? That's good…" She leaned against the bed, drying to drag herself up, trying to stand, "I should go… find… Estonia… probably…"

"Are you sure you're ok to walk?"

Hungary nodded again, slowly, stepping forward carefully. She was dizzy, but she could still keep herself in a straight line. She turned back to look at Gil, "You need help…"

"I can manage."

"No, you can't…" She shook her head, walking up to him. She reached down, lifting him until he was standing with her help.

"Liz you don't have to-"

"Stop being so stubborn all the time, ok? That's how you get into these messes in the first place…"

"Speak for yourself!" Prussia rolled his eyes, letting her help him back to the bed. He crawled in, exhausted. "Danke…" he whispered.

"Yeah… no problem…" she whispered, bringing her hand to her head again.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Prussia asked, still worried.

She nodded, "Yeah, like I said… just need to see Estonia." she forced a smile.

"If you're sure…" he wanted to take her to get help himself, but he wasn't strong enough. He would hurt her more, not help her. He hated it.

Hungary nodded, "Yeah, I'll be fine…" she smiled at him again, turning to walk towards the door.

Gil watched her leave and turned back to look at the tray of painkillers. The bottle was empty.

* * *

A/N: So... Russia knows. That's a thing... That's now a thing... *winces* And Hungary being her BA self! Go, girl! (though perhaps pick your battles better next time...?) Russia was pretty dark in this chapter. He certianly can be when he needs to be. Some of you have asked if Russia has DID (Dislocative Identiy Disorder, formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder) and I think he has borderline DID. His "normal" personality and his truely snapped personality aren't QUITE distinctive enough to count I think, such as in this chapter... which one was it? Was it both back and forth? Etc... Russia is as fun to analize as he is to write.

Seriously though, Gil's in trouble...

As always, reviews and reviewers are dearly loved! Thank you guys so much for reading! And welcome to all the new readers that have been reviewing! I'm so glad you're here and enjoying the story! I hope it continues to please you all! I absolutely love writing this story! I hope it shows because it's so true! :D *hugs* As always, cookies and milk, and ice cream, and lemonade for reviewers! It's getting SO hot here... so I won't give any hot tea or blankets... so... yeah... thank you again for all the reviews and great PM conversations! I especially LOVE IT when people Psycoanalize my characters, so if that's something you enjoy doing... I'd love to hear your thoughts! They're all pretty messed up as I'm sure you've all noticed... XD Thank you!


	37. Chapter 37: Dogs

Chapter 37

GDR lifted his head weakly, looking into Russia's face. He was tied to a chair in a cold stone room, one light hanging in front of him. He could barely move his legs, so they weren't bound, which he was grateful for. The ropes around his wrists dug through the bandages, pressing against the tender skin that hadn't fully healed. He moved his right arm, trying to adjust the needle that ran into it, a long tube connecting his body to the drugs it needed, but only received if Russia was satisfied with his answers. His heart pounded, his breathing choked and quick. He hadn't had sleep, or food, or water for several days, and he could barely keep his head up. He let it fall forward again, breathing weakly.

Russia grabbed the man's white hair, pulling his head up roughly, smiling when he drew a soft cry of pain from GDR's cracked lips.

"Well," The bigger country asked, "It's been over 12 hours… do you need more, GDR?"

"Ja…" he whispered, his voice choked. He let his head stay back as Russia let go of his hair. He watched as the giant of a country walked back around him, sitting across from him with a sickening smile.

GDR looked forward, staring at Russia, barely keeping his eyes open.

"What's your name?"

"German Democratic Republic." _Prussia._

"What are you?"

"A communist state." _Prussia._

"Who do you belong to?"

"The Soviet Union: you." _No one._

"Why was the wall built?"

"To protect me…" _To keep me caged…_

"What punishment do people attempting to cross it deserve?"

"…Death." _Freedom…_

"And your brother is?"

"America's dog." _What does that make me?_

"Would you like me to give you the drugs you need?" Russia smiled, leaning forward into the light, so Gil could see his face.

Gil nodded, "Ja… bitte…" He cried out in pain as Russia slapped him, throwing his head to the side hard. "Yes…" he whispered, "Please…"

"'Please', what?"

Gil sighed, "I need the drugs… please…"

"What was that? I'm still not sure I understand you." Russia's voice was ice.

"Please, Russia, I need the drugs…."

"Oh, you need them, really?" Russia snapped, standing and grabbing Gil's hair again, forcing his head back, "Do you?"

"Russia, may I please have the drugs? Please give them to me, please…"

Russia smiled, sliding his hand from Gil's hair to his cheek, patting it gently. "Da. All you had to do was ask," he smiled, turning the valve on the medicine bag, letting the liquid rush into Gil's blood through the tube in his arm.

Gil sighed, relaxing as the drugs started their work. His breathing relaxed, his heartbeat slowing to normal. He looked up at Russia, trying to look braver than he felt.

Russia smiled, pulling out a canteen of water.

Gil struggled at the ropes, looking up at Russia, desperate. He watched as Russia dripped the water into the cap slowly. A drop fell down the metal side onto the ground. Gil licked his lips, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

"What's your name?" Russia smiled, stepping closer to Gil with the water cup.

"German Democratic Republic." He healed forward, straining to get to the water Russia held just out of reach.

"What are you?"

"A communist state."

"Who do you belong to?"

"The Soviet Union: you."

"Why was the wall built?"

"To protect me," he looked up at Russia, his eyes begging for the water.

"What punishment do people attempting to cross it deserve?" Russia's tone didn't change, and he didn't move.

"Death!" He didn't care what he had to say. He needed the water.

"And your brother is?"

"America's dog, Russia please…"

Russia smiled, bringing the water to Gil's lips, letting him drink, "Would you like more?"

"Da…" Gil whispered, hoping the Russian word would please the giant country.

Russia's smile grew, "Khorosho, Ptitska." He filled another cup and let Gil drink, "Would you like the rest?"

Gil looked up at Russia, confused, "What would I have to do…?"

"Nothing," Russia shook his head with a smile, "But you're thirsty, aren't you?"

Gil nodded slowly, still wary of Russia's kindness.

"Here…" Russia put his hand to the back of Gil's head and held the canteen to his lips, tilting it so the smaller country could drink.

Gil drank gratefully, fast enough to almost choke as the water ran down his neck while he tried to get every drop.

Russia spoke while watching the man drink, "Your brother really is America's dog you know… without America there's no way he would have survived. His people think they're free, but they're not. America may claim to give them freedom, but some people rise, while others starve, now what kind of country does that?"

Gil was almost too busy gulping at the water to listen to Russia, but he glanced up at him, trying to pretend to be paying attention.

Russia smiled, tipping the canteen further, more wasted water splashing down Gil's neck, "Men can be driven by greed… America, is driven by greed. He can't understand that everyone must be treated with absolute equality. Everyman the same. This is safe. This protects people… he gives your brother too much freedom…"

Gil looked up at Russia as he struggled for the last drop of the water.

"Your brother's like a dog without a leash…" Russia pulled the canteen away, petting Gil's hair almost comfortingly. "But you, Ptitska… my little bird… you have learned to like you cage… da?"

Gil nodded slowly, resting his head in the warmth of Russia's hand. He was so cold…

"America hasn't forgiven your brother…" Russia smiled, walking behind Gil slowly, tracing the communist scar on his back. "Your brother has a scar here too… though a different mark I think…"

Gil shivered, looking away from Russia. He wrapped his hands into fists, "Don't talk about my brother!"

Russia pulled his head back hard, "You don't get to give me orders." He kicked the back of Gil's legs under the chair.

Gil cried out in pain, struggling against Russia's grip on his hair.

Russia let go, "Your brother is worth nothing. France and England and America can have him, he's barely worth their time. And what they're doing to his country… too bad he doesn't have you to protect him anymore," Russia's voice was ice.

"Halt's Maul! (Shut up!)" Prussia snapped, looking up at Russia, hatred flashing in his red eyes.

Russia grabbed his hair again, smiling, "I knew there was fight left in there somewhere… So your brother means that much to you?"

Gil said nothing, gritting his teeth.

Russia leaned in threateningly close to Gil's face, "Maybe once I'm done with you, I'll get your brother from America… wouldn't it be nice to see him again?"

Prussia struggled, looking into Russia's face, "I'm going to kill you f-" Russia's hand around his throat cut him off. He closed his eyes, gasping as the deep bruises already left in his neck shot pain down his spine.

"And here I thought I'd almost broken you…" Russia let go of Gil's neck and took a step towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Gil breathed hard, coughing.

"To get the one who can."

…

Germany leaned his arms against his desk, pressing his hands into his hair, pushing it back. He stared at the circular package, wrapped in brown paper, resting on the cherry wood.

 _From: Russia_

 _To: Germany_

 _Open Immediately. Contains Important Information Regarding GDR._

It had been checked and re-checked. It wasn't dangerous. It was a tape. A quad video tape. He wasn't sure he wanted to open it. He jumped, resting his hand on his gun and turning his chair suddenly as he heard the door to his office open. It was America.

"Hey, Germany! So, what was on that tape!?" America stopped, looking at Germany's face. "Hey, man, are you all right?" He took a few steps closer, noticing the still un-opened package on Germany's desk. He let Germany speak.

"I uh… haven't opened it yet…" Germany looked away from it, "America what if-"

"Look, we don't know anything until we watch it… maybe… maybe it's nothing!" America put his hand on Germany's shoulder reassuringly. "I'll… I'll even watch it with you if you want!" America grinned, nodding, trying to sound positive. He always tried to sound positive.

Germany nodded slowly, picking up the package and flipping it over. He sighed, taking off his black leather gloves to open it more easily. He unfolded each taped piece of paper carefully, not tearing anything. He took out the tape. A black quad tape. He brought it to the player that had been brought in for it, and looked back at America.

"Go ahead, I'm sure it'll be fine," America smiled, trying to sound hopeful. He pulled a chair up to the television and motioned for Germany to sit beside him once he started the tape.

Germany slowly sat next to America, putting his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, his chin resting on his thumbs and his folded hands pressed against his lips.

"Hey," America put his hand on Germany's back kindly, "Seriously, whatever happens… I'm trying, ok. You know I'm trying to get him back…"

Germany nodded, turning to the screen as the video tape started to play. He stared at his brother. He was so thin, so horribly thin. He wore a black uniform. Dark circles were clearly visible under his eyes, and his lips were cracked and dry. Germany shuddered as his brother's eyes looked up into the camera lens. They looked dead.

"Hallo, Bruder…" his brother's voice was different. It had always been raspy and almost harsh, but there was no life left in it. It was rougher, colder, more like Russia's… He wanted to look away from the screen but he couldn't. He felt America's hand on his back again. It was barely comforting. He shook his head, seeing his brother's bloodshot eyes dart off to look behind the camera for a moment, then fix themselves back on the lens, like they were talking face to face.

"I'm being treated more than well here."

Germany didn't believe that for a second. One look at his brother's face told him that. He looked like he was dying. He'd never seen him look so… helpless.

"I'm making this video… to… remind you…" GDR's words were choked, and Germany could hear the dehydration in his brother's voice. He brought his hands down from his face, clenching them into fists.

"I'm making this video to remind you, who, and I am," Gil's voice trembled, "My name, is German Democratic Republic, also known as GDR," the white-haired country swallowed hard, "I am a communist satellite state of the Soviet Union, owned by Russia…" his eyes darted of camera again, then back, "I know the wall must upset you, but it's for my own protection and those my people. Anyone attempting to cross it is shot. They are no longer loyal citizens of GDR, and therefore cannot live," he swallowed again his voice catching, "I am very sorry that you are owned by America, as I can only imagine how… cruel… of an owner he must be…" Gil bit his lip, his eyes darting off camera again.

Germany winced as his brother blinked hard, almost flinching, and turned back to the camera lens, a spark of fear in his eyes.

"Please, don't try and save me, I like it here, and I want to stay…" tears were just barely visible in Gil's eyes, "I don't want to be another one of America's dogs," he set his jaw and nodded off camera.

The video ended.

Germany sat stunned for a moment, barely able to process what he'd seen. He stood and flipped the glass table in front of them over, shattering it, sending the papers that had rested on it flying around the room with a shout of rage.

America stood, grabbing Germany's shoulders, "Germany, calm down…"

Germany threw off America's hands, turning back to him, "Don't tell me to calm down that's MY BROTHER!" He yelled, pointing towards the tape, "What do you think Russia did to him to get him to say that!? He… he wouldn't…" Germany shook his head. He didn't know if he wanted to shout again or cry. He wouldn't cry. Not in front of America.

"Germany, I'm trying, please understand, Russia-"

"IS HURTING MY BROTHER!"

"I know that but I can't do anything about it right now!" America shook his head, angry, "I'm in the middle of a war I'm not winning, and as much as I care about Gil, there's nothing I can do!"

"I can't do nothing… I can't…" Germany shook his head, his voice breaking. "I won't do nothing!"

"Then don't. Do everything you can. Help his people get across the wall, figure out a way to help him once he gets back… just… I can't fix it yet… I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry!"

Germany looked away, "Some 'hero' you turned out to be…"

The words stung, "You're one to talk…" America clenched his fists.

Germany looked back at America, angry, hurt.

"I'm sorry…" America sighed, putting his hand on Germany's shoulder again, "That was uncalled for." he sighed, "Really though, I'm trying. I want to free all of them. Remember, Russia came and dragged Toris away from me… I… The way he reacted to normal things while he was in my house just… I know Russia's hurting him. I know it. He's my friend, and so is Gil. I want to help them both, and everyone else there, but I can't. Not yet. Not YET. But I will. I promise… just give me more time."

"How much more time do you think my brother has?" Germany forced himself to speak.

America sighed, looking back at the television, picturing Gil's face on it again. He shook his head, horrified, "I don't know…" he looked back up at Germany, "I'll do everything I can. I promise."

Germany nodded, patting America's hand on his shoulder before pushing it off, turning away, sitting back at his desk chair, putting his head in his hands.

America glanced at the broken table in front of the TV.

"I'll clean it up later," Germany sighed, not looking up at America.

"I'm… guessing you want me to leave?" America sighed, looking at Germany again. He was worried.

Germany nodded without a word.

America walked towards the door, "Um… I'm here if you need me, ok?"

Germany nodded again, still not turning to America.

America left, closing the door behind him.

Germany sat at his desk for a moment, still processing everything he'd seen, analyzing every detail in his mind. He looked up at the tape finally, standing to reset it and play it again.

 _"_ _Hallo, Bruder… I'm being treated more than well here, I'm making this video… to… remind you…I'm making this video to remind you, who, and I am. My name, is German Democratic Republic, also known as GDR. I am a communist satellite state of the Soviet Union, owned by Russia…I know the wall must upset you, but it's for my own protection and those my people. Anyone attempting to cross it is shot. They are no longer loyal citizens of GDR, and therefore cannot live. I am very sorry that you are owned by America, as I can only imagine how… cruel… of an owner he must be…Please, don't try and save me, I like it here, and I want to stay…I don't want to be another one of America's dogs._

Click

Germany shook his head. Every time his brother's eyes darting off camera, every time he blinked, or shivered, or almost flinched, or his breath caught, etched themselves in Germany's mind. He had to save his brother. Somehow. He pressed his hands into his face, sliding off the chair onto his knees beside the broken glass, and sobbed.

* * *

A/N: Well that was sad... Gil so desperate in the beginning he's barely acting human, followed by Germany getting a glimpse of his brother for the first time in a long time... *sigh*. A few of you have been asking me to jump over the wall to Germany's perspective, and Gil's mind is getting so dark and depressing I really wanted someone to be fighting for him for a change! I need some hope guys! (I bet you all do too!) This is not good. This is very, very not good... Also, America being less obnoxious than he's usually portrayed, because he's an interesting character too, and he's trying his best! I haven't written for Germany or America before, so please let me know if you thought I did a half-decent job at them!

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated! They really REALLY help keep me motivated to update so often, and I know you all love frequent updates! *hand-heart* Thank you all again for the continued support for this story! I'm actually pretty overwhelmed at the reception it's gotten! Thank you all so much! Cookies and hugs and treats of all kinds for all of you!


	38. Chapter 38: Pride

Chapter 38

GDR brought his cigarette to his lips, turning away from the meal in front of him. His hands trembled slightly, his finger stiff.

"Are you all right, GDR?" Russia asked kindly, returning his meat laden fork to his plate.

GDR nodded, turning to Russia with a smile, "Da, of course."

 _Gil struggled as strong gloved hands dragged him down a dark hallway. He tried to keep up, stumbling on injured legs, gripping the sleeve of his captor to keep from falling. He looked back at Russia, who followed behind, expressionless cold on his face._

 _"_ _Where are you taking me!" he struggled._

 _General Winter said nothing, only walked faster, not stopping as Gil fell to the ground, continuing to drag him along the stone._

"Khorosho. Lithuania is a good cook, da?" Russia smiled.

"Ja, very good," GDR nodded again, taking another deep inhale of the smoke. He barely picked at his food, which sat on a plate on Russia's desk. They were in his office, eating while discussing work.

 _"_ _Bitte… bitte nicht (please don't)… nein…" Gil begged as General Winter shoved him into a tiny cell, exactly one-meter square. He turned to the door too late, pounding his fists against it as it slammed in his face, locking. He fell back onto the bench, pressing his head into his hands. He pressed his ear against the door, hearing General Winter and Russia speaking slowly. He couldn't understand them._

GDR took a drink of the beer that sat beside the plate of steak. His hands trembled in the uncomfortable silence. "So," he asked finally, "I suppose you have new orders for me?"

 _"_ _Remember, GDR, you were the one who asked for this!" General Winter smiled a dark, sickeningly cruel smile that reminded Gil of Russia's, only it was more terrifying._

 _Gil gasped, closing his eyes, breathing hard in terror as General Winter laid the cold blade against his chest._

GDR winced, looking back up at Russia, who's voice faded into his conscious mind.

"Did you hear me, GDR?" Russia asked, concerned.

GDR shook his head, "I'm sorry, I must have… zoned out for a moment. You were saying?" He brought the cigarette to his lips again.

"I'm sending you to Berlin."

GDR froze, "You…. what? I… I don't want to go there, I-"

"It's not your choice," Russia snapped, shaking his head.

"When am I leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning, very early."

"And what do you want me to do there?" GDR asked, not looking at Russia.

"You're still my best interrogator, GDR. There's more talk of a revolution. Do whatever you have to do to stop it."

GDR nodded, "I can do that," he smiled.

"Khorosho!" Russia grinned. "Now," he sighed, setting his silverware on the plate and moving it to the side, "I have more papers for you to sign."

GDR nodded, moving his own plate, and taking the stack Russia handed to him. He took another deep inhale of the cigarette, and put it out, setting it in the tray on Russia's desk. He turned back to the papers and sighed what he was ordered to.

"Done," he smiled, looking up at Russia.

"Khorosho," Russia smiled back, taking the finished stack of papers and filing them in the cabinet beside his desk. "You will leave for Berlin at 6 am tomorrow. I'll expect you to be in full uniform of course."

GDR nodded.

"You'll be meeting several important politicians and generals. I expect you to treat them with the utmost respect."

GDR nodded again, "Of course, Russland."

Russia smiled, "Khorosho. Now, it's quite late, and you have an early morning, as do I. Help me?" Russia smiled.

GDR nodded with a smile and walked to the other side of the desk, facing Russia. He knelt, untying Russia's boots, helping him take them off. He looked up at the giant country, hoping to see a smile. He wasn't disappointed.

Russia pet his hair gently, "Spasiba, Ptitska."

GDR smiled back, "Of course, Russia."

Russia smiled again and took a small case from his desk, handing it to GDR. "For the week you'll be gone. It should be enough and a little extra."

GDR opened the case, smiling as he saw 3 syringes and 12 bottles of the painkillers, "Spasiba," he looked up at Russia gratefully.

Russia smiled still, motioning for GDR to stand, "I suppose you still need tonight's dose?" he asked kindly.

GDR nodded, zipping the case closed, setting it on the desk.

Russia opened one of the drawers in his desk, pulling out a full vial and syringe. He nodded to GDR, motioning for his arm.

GDR stood and set the jacket of his uniform beside the case on the desk, rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt. He extended his arm to Russia, closing his eyes with a sigh as he felt the band tighten around his arm as Russia tried to find an un-scared vein to use.

"I can do it…" GDR said, looking back down at Russia's struggle to find a spot on his arm.

"Nyet, it's all right," Russia shook his head, taking the band off Gil's arm, pulling down the white-haired country's sleeve, "I don't have to use your arm." Russia stood, moving GDR's hair away from his neck.

GDR didn't argue, sighing in relief as the Russia gave him three full syringes of the drugs. He smiled up at Russia, "Danke."

Russia smiled back, "Now, you should go rest. If you're leaving at 6 am you'll be getting up at…. 3?

GDR nodded with a smirk, "Probably. I have a run and shower, and then getting on the uniform…" he shrugged, "It takes a while."

Russia laughed, "So it must," he nodded. "If you see Lithuania, tell him we're done with the food." He pat GDR's shoulder and sat back down at his desk, motioning for GDR to leave.

GDR picked up his jacket and the case of medicine. He smiled at Russia with a nod as he reached the door. He opened it, walking into the hall, crashing into Lithuania, sending both of them to the ground.

Lithuania stood without a word and offered GDR help up.

"I don't need your help," GDR shook his head, standing, dusting off his uniform, "Watch where you're going next time!"

Lithuania looked away, his hands shaking as he hid them behind his back, "Looks like Russia has a new pet," he mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" GDR snapped, grabbing Lithuania's face and turning it towards his own.

"Nothing," Lithuania pulled his face away from GDR's hand.

"Good," GDR started to walk past him.

"You're starting to act just like he does, Gil…" Lithuania whispered after him.

"What?" GDR stopped but didn't turn.

"Just like Russia. You… you would never have done that when you first got here…"

"Russia protects me."

"From what?"

"Everything."

"Especially yourself, right? Better a Commie than a Nazi?" Lithuania clenched his hands into fists, angry.

Gil dropped his jacket and case on the ground and turned back to Lithuania, slapping him hard.

Lithuania didn't look back at Gil for a moment, closing his eyes. He turned finally, "See? Just like Russia."

Gil said nothing, setting his jaw and clenching his fists tighter.

"What did General Winter do to you…?" Lithuania whispered, concerned. He looked into Gil's eyes. It sent a shiver down his spine. It was like they belonged to someone else. "You're still in there… somewhere. I still believe that, Gil… but…"

GDR punched Lithuania to the ground, kicking his back, "Never try that again. I'm fine. I like belonging to Russia." He turned to pick up his jacket and case and walked down the stairs.

Lithuania brought his hand to his bleeding lip, trembling with shock. He watched Gil walk down the stairs, horrified. He stood slowly, dizzy, and walked into Russia's office.

…

GDR stood in front of the long mirror in his room, wearing a loose pair of sweatpants. He stared at himself, trying to take in the image of a body and a face he barely recognized as his own. His ribs poked through his skin, and he'd lost most of the muscle definition he'd once been proud of. He didn't look strong, he didn't look powerful. He didn't look like a soldier. He touched his right arm gently, poking at the deep red marks and dark purple bruises that wouldn't go away. He looked at his legs, covered by the sweat pants. It had been months since they'd started working again, but they still stung with every step.

He lifted his hands, looking at them. They never stopped shaking, no matter what he tried. He looked at the bleeding knuckles where they'd split against Lithuania's face. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. He couldn't have done that. He couldn't have hurt Lithuania. But he did. His hands didn't look strong either. They were thin and looked older, almost all the muscle from them weakened to the point of nonexistence.

Finally, he looked up into the mirror at his face. Sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, dark circles… he didn't look like himself. He lifted his shaking hands to his cheeks, feeling the skin on his gaunt face. He ran his finger over his lips. They were dry, cracked, and thinner. The skin under his eyes was tender, and his eyes were bloodshot. He hated it. He didn't look like himself. He didn't feel like himself. He turned, looking at the scar on his shoulder, pulling at the skin, trying to look at the whole mark. He faced the mirror again, tracing the long mark running down the middle of his chest. It was barely healed enough to be considered a scar, and it hurt to touch it, even gently. He didn't care.

 _General Winter set down the knife, pulling Gil's head back with a smile, "Now, don't make any noise, or I'll make this worse!"_

 _Gil closed his eyes, screaming in pain as General Winter slipped his hand into the deep cut in his chest, wrapping icy fingers around his heart tightly. He set his jaw, trying not to scream again as tears rolled down his cheeks, "Bitte…" he whispered, breathing hard, instinctively struggling at the ropes that bound his wrists to the chair. He screamed again as General Winter's grip grew tighter._

 _"_ _I'm helping you, remember?" General Winter laughed, "No more pain… no more feeling… anything…"_

 _Gil shook his head, struggling, screaming in pain._

 _Russia stepped behind him, looking down at General Winter, who let go of Gil's hair. Russia pulled Gil's head back, letting him rest it against his shoulder as he knelt behind him. He put his hand over Gil's mouth, trying to silence him._

 _Gil struggled, tears streaming down his cheeks._

 _Russia brushed Gil's hair away from his eyes gently, a catch in his voice, "Please, Ptitska… this will help you. I'm trying to help you… I don't like it that you're in pain…"_

 _Gil kept his eyes closed, trying not to scream, trying not to cry. He struggled still, though less violently, whimpering in pain. Russia's touch more comforting than he would admit._

 _"_ _Sh…" Russia whispered, petting Gil's forehead gently, keeping his head back against his shoulder, "It'll be over soon. And you'll be stronger. You'll be so much stronger," he smiled, trying to hide the tears in his voice._

 _Gil stopped struggling, opening his eyes, looking straight ahead. He didn't scream. He didn't move._

 _Russia brought his hand from Gil's mouth to his shoulder, looking down at General Winter, who still kept his hand around Gil's heart._

 _"_ _What's your name?" Russia whispered._

 _"_ _German Democratic Republic," Gil's voice was different, empty._

 _"_ _What are you?" Russia's voice was gentle, kind._

 _"_ _A communist state."_

 _"_ _Who do you belong to?"_

 _"_ _The Soviet Union…" Gil didn't move, still resting his head against Russia's shoulder. He winced a little as General Winter moved his hand a little, "You, Russia…. I belong to you…"_

 _"_ _Why was the wall built?" Russia closed his eyes for a moment, trying to keep back tears._

 _"_ _To protect me."_

 _"_ _What punishment do people attempting to cross it deserve?"_

 _"_ _Death."_

 _"_ _And your brother…?"_

 _"_ _Is America's dog…"_

 _"_ _And what are you?"_

 _"_ _Your bird."_

 _Russia smiled, patting GDR's shoulder, "I'm so proud of you." he smiled, letting GDR lift his head._

 _General Winter let go of GDR's heart, pulling his hand from his chest and resting a bloody hand on his shoulder, "There. Now you're strong. Now you understand, da?"_

 _GDR nodded, looking into General Winter's grey eyes. He smiled._

 _General Winter untied GDR's hands, looking up at Russia, "I think I've done what you asked."_

 _Russia nodded, "Da, Spasiba."_

 _General winter nodded back without a word. He walked out of the room._

 _"_ _GDR?" Russia asked, walking in front of GDR, looking into his face._

 _GDR looked up at Russia with a soft smile, "Are you really pleased with me?"_

 _Russia nodded, "Very much." He lifted GDR's left arm and put it around his shoulder, helping him stand, "Now, let's get you cleaned up, then food and water, da?"_

 _GDR nodded, letting Russia pick him up, resting his head against his arm around Russia's shoulders. He fell asleep almost instantly._

GDR looked at the angry scar in the mirror. At least Russia was proud of him. He didn't think he was very proud of himself.

* * *

A/N: Hey look, I'm not dead! Thank you to those of you who are sticking around! I know it's only been a week... but still XD I get a three day weekend next week, so hopefully, that means more chapters! Filming has been INSANE for this one, as it's a historical piece, so I literally haven't had time to do anything except film and sleep. (I'm not even exaggerating, I literally get home, eat supper, and go to sleep.) My call times are usually around 5:30am or so, and we shoot until 7 or later every day... yesterday (Saturday) my call time was 7am, and we shot until 11pm... so we're talking REEEEEEEAAAAAAALY long filming days. But it's fun, and I wouldn't change it for the world, even though it's not 'easy'. Anyway, that's why it's only one chapter this week. I think that's going to become the norm until the end of August (when filming stops) but that's ok! I might be able to write while I'm there this week, as I have a LOT of sitting-around-doing-nothing this week because of what we're filming. I'm there almost as a formalltiy. So hopefully writing can happen! (no promises though...)

We're back on the East Side again here. And Gil is... different. (Liet is now the only 'sane' on in the house, and I use that definition loosely as I'm not even sure Liet counts...)

As always reviews are SO appreciated! :D :D :D I love reading them, and reply to all I can! I love you all so much! Thank you for your reviews and dedication to this story! *hugs to all* and more lemonaide and cookies!


	39. Chapter 39: Game

Chapter 39

Everything was quiet, the air still and peaceful. Moonlight streamed in through the window, casting soft shadows around the room. Germany couldn't sleep. He laid on his bed looking straight up to the ceiling. He hadn't slept for days. He couldn't get the image of his brother's face out of his mind. He sighed, pressing his hands into his face and pushing back his messy hair. He couldn't sleep. He flipped the covers over and sat up, resting his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. He looked up, hearing a knock at the door.

"Ja?" he pushed his hair back, standing.

The door opened slowly, a small, fiery red-headed country peeking around the stream of soft light.

Germany sighed, sitting back down on his bed, "Italy…"

Italy sighed, stepping closer to Germany, "You still can't sleep, can you?"

Germany shook his head, "Nein… I just…"

"You're worried about Prussia?" Italy sighed, barely phrasing it as a question.

Germany nodded, pushing his hair back again, "I have to do something. I have to… but I can't… America won't let me. There's nothing I can do, I can't protect him, I can't save him, I can't stop any of this from happening…"

Italy pulled Germany's hands away from his face, "Hey… you'll save him! I know you will! And America will help. He won't leave Gil there, I promise."

"Then why won't he do anything now!?" Germany pounded his fist into the bed, looking away from Italy.

"He's trying!" Italy sighed, putting his hand on Germany's shoulder, "He's really trying, I know he is!"

"Well, not hard enough… I don't know how much more time Gil has…"

Italy looked down, sighing deeply, "He… he really is dying?"

Germany looked down, nodding slowly, "I think he might be. He looks terrible…"

"You looked terrible after the war."

Germany sighed, looking back at Italy, "I'm just glad you came back."

Italy smiled, "I'm sorry I had to leave, but-"

"No, I don't blame you. You saw what was happening and you couldn't be part of it. I don't blame you at all. I'm just glad you came back when it was over."

Italy smiled, nodding, "Of course I came back! And Gil will come back too!" He grinned, hugging Germany's arm, "You'll see!"

Germany smiled at Italy then sighed, nodding, "I hope you're right, Italy… I really do…"

"And when he comes back, you'll take great care of him, and so will I! He'll be ok, I promise!" Italy grinned still, looking up at Germany, his big brown eyes full of hope.

Germany nodded again, "If you're sure." He wasn't sure.

Italy smiled, laying his head on Germany's shoulder, "I'm sure."

Germain let his head rest against Italy's, sighing deeply, letting the little country hug his arm.

"And when you get Gil back, I get to hug him second, ok?" Italy whispered, tired.

Germany nodded, closing his eyes, "Ja… right after me…" He sighed, lifting his head to look back at Italy. "Feli?" he whispered. No reply. "Italy?" he tried to look at the country's face. The red-head's eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of sleep. Germany smiled, picking him up and carrying him back to his room. He set him down on his bed and pulled the covers over him, brushing the red hair out of the country's face.

"Gute Nacht, Feli." Germany smiled, walking back to his own room and sitting on the bed. He sighed, laying down and pulling the covers over his legs. He turned, looking up at the ceiling again, and closed his eyes, trying to sleep, trying to dream about Prussia.

 _"_ _Bruder, you're home!" He grinned, running up to his older brother, throwing his arms around the white-haired country's neck. He laughed as the white-haired country spun him around, then lifted him up into his arms._

 _"_ _How's my Engelchen?" Prussia grinned, nuzzling Luddy's nose._

 _"_ _Good! You're home!"_

 _Prussia nodded, "So I am."_

 _"_ _Your face is hurt…" Luddy pouted, touching the scabbed over the cut in Prussia's cheek._

 _Prussia smiled, shaking his head, "Not very hurt. I'll be fine."_

 _Luddy kissed the injury, laying his head on his brother's shoulder, "Why do you fight so much…" He asked after a long silence._

 _Prussia sighed, "Because I'm a soldier. And there's always a war to win."_

 _"_ _But you always come home hurt…"_

 _"_ _Not too hurt."_

 _"_ _Sometimes!" Luddy looked up, his youthfully chubby face frowning at his big brother, "Sometimes you come back very hurt. Carried hurt!"_

 _Prussia nodded, "Yes, but not very often. And when I do, I have you to take care of me, don't I?"_

 _Luddy nodded, grinning, "Ja! And someday I'll be strong like you! And I'll win wars and fight bad guys!"_

 _"_ _Yes you will," Prussia laughed, hugging his brother tighter. He carried him into their castle and set him down on the beautiful marble floor. He took his brother's hand and started walking up the stairs._

 _Ludwig followed close behind Prussia, looking up at him. He was so strong, so brave, and almost always won his battles. He wanted to be just like him._

 _"_ _Bruder… do you like me?" Luddy looked up at Prussia. He was worried. He wasn't strong, or brave like his big brother, he was too small._

 _Prussia stopped on the landing of the stairs, kneeling, putting his hands on Luddy's shoulders, "Of course I do. and don't you ever forget that. Okay? You're awesome, just like me. Just as awesome," he touched Luddy's nose quickly with a smile, "And you're going to be just as strong as I am one day."_

 _"_ _Some of the others don't like me…" Luddy looked down. The rest of their siblings were also much older than he was. Older, wiser, stronger, and he didn't want to bother them. He felt like he bothered them._

 _"_ _Nein," Prussia shook his head, "They love you. Almost as much as I do," he smirked, "Trust me, they love you."_

 _"_ _If you're sure…."_

 _"_ _I'm sure," Prussia smiled._

 _Luddy looked up as his brother lifted his chin gently. He smiled, "Do we have time for a lesson?"_

 _Prussia shook his head with a laugh, "No, silly, it's dark out!"_

 _"_ _Then can we play the game?" Luddy grinned._

 _Prussia thought for a moment dramatically, "Well… if you get ready for bed really, really fast, then maybe we'll have time to play the game."_

 _Luddy grinned, nodding and running up the rest of the stairs into his room. He hurried into his pajamas and ran back towards the door, almost running into Prussia as he opened it._

 _"_ _Hey there!" Prussia laughed, stopping his brother from crashing into him._

 _Luddy looked up at him with a giant grin, "Can we play the game now?"_

 _Prussia nodded, stepping into the room and closing the door, "Ok, ready?"_

 _Luddy smiled, standing with his right leg slightly back, bending his knees and holding crossed arms up in front of his chest._

 _Prussia stood, his left leg behind him, and put his hands on Luddy's arms by his elbows._

 _"_ _Ready?" Prussia smiled._

 _Luddy nodded, his small childish face frowning in concentration._

 _Prussia pushed against Luddy's arms gently, pulling him to the one side, then the other, bringing him back to the center. "Are you sure you're ready?"_

 _Luddy nodded._

 _"_ _Close your eyes…" Prussia smiled._

 _Luddy obeyed, closing his eyes with a happy sigh._

 _"_ _Let your feet anchor to the ground, feel your weight grow heavy. Don't let me push you over. If you take a step, take it carefully. Be aware of where you are, and hold steady."_

 _Luddy nodded, biting his lips into his mouth to keep from grinning with excitement._

 _Prussia smiled, pushing against his brother's arms, shifting him, trying to push him off balance._

 _Luddy moved against the weight, trying to keep his feet firmly on the ground. He took a deliberate step back, not allowing himself to be pushed over._

 _Prussia grinned, taking his hands away from his brother's arms._

 _Luddy looked up at his brother, smiling back, "Did I do it?"_

 _Prussia nodded, "Ja. You're getting much stronger, Luddy. Better every day."_

 _"_ _One day I'll be able to sword fight like you!"_

 _Prussia nodded again, "Of course you will be. You'll be awesome!" He smiled, ruffling his brother's hair._

 _Luddy wrapped his arms around his brother's neck, resting his head on his shoulder. "Ich liebe dich, bruder…."_

 _Prussia smiled, picking up his almost-sleeping brother, carrying him towards the bed. He lifted the covers and laid the little blond country into the bed, pulling the covers over him up to his chin. He kissed his forehead and turned to walk out of the room._

 _"Singst du? (Will you sing?)," Luddy whined sleepily, "Bitte?"_

 _Prussia turned, laughing quietly, "You want me to sing? I thought you hated my voice?"_

 _Luddy shook his head, "Mm mm, no I like it."_

 _Prussia sighed with a smile, walking back to Luddy's bed and kneeling beside it, petting his little brother's hair._

 _Weißt du, wieviel Kinder frühe  
stehn aus ihrem Bettlein auf,  
daß sie ohne Sorg und Mühe  
fröhlich sind im Tageslauf?  
Gott im Himmel hat an allen  
seine Lust, sein Wohlgefallen;  
kennt auch dich und hat dich lieb,  
kennt auch dich und hat dich lieb._

 _(Do you know how many children  
Wake up early from their little beds,  
Who are without worry and sorrow  
And happy durring the day?  
God in Heaven has everybody's  
Joy and welfare in mind;  
He knows you and loves you too,  
He knows you and loves you too.)_

 _Prussia smiled, petting soft blond hair and chubby round cheek. He saw his brother's chest rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. He stood, kissing his forehead again. "Schlaf gut, Engelchen (Sleep well, little angel)."_

Germany opened his eyes, daylight peeking in through his open window. He sighed, pressing his hands into his face. He looked at the clock. 5 am. He stood slowly, not awake yet. He walked to his closet, sighing as he looked through all the military green. He rarely wore his uniform anymore. He'd tried so hard and worked for so long to prove to everyone that he'd changed since the war that wearing a military uniform seemed unproductive. He took a grey suit and white shirt from the hanger, setting it on the bed. He changed quickly, pulling on a pair of leather boots. He couldn't give up his boots. He walked into the attached bathroom and gelled his hair back, exactly the same as he always did. He sighed. He was skipping his morning run, his body and mind too tired to focus on anything. He would work. Work always helped. His country was finally doing well again. His people weren't starving, they weren't dying. An 'Economic Miracle' they were calling it: 'Wirtschaftswunder'. He walked out of his room to find Italy already in the kitchen cooking.

"What are you doing up so early, Feli?" Germany asked, concerned. Italy never woke up early, not for anything or anyone.

"To make you breakfast!" Italy grinned, concentrating on frying the meat he was making specifically for the blonde country.

"Italy… you didn't have to-"

"No! You were upset last night! You're still upset. I know I can't fix everything, but I can try to cheer you up!" Italy smiled back at him, turning back to the meat as if looking away for a second was cause it to burn.

Germany smiled, "Danke, Feli."

Italy motioned to the table he had set with two plates. He gave all the meat to Germany and brought the tray of Crostata from the oven where it was staying warm.

"Ta da!" Italy grinned, gesturing towards the food.

Germany smiled again, "Again, Danke."

Italy nodded, still grinning, and sat beside Germany, "So I did cheer you up?"

Germany nodded slightly, "Ja. A little bit."

"We'll help Gil. I promise. He'll be ok, I know he will. You won't let Russia…" Italy stopped himself, seeing Germany's expression change, "Ludwig?"

Germany shook his head, "No, it's ok. It's ok, it just… it scares me."

"Me too…" Italy sighed, "Gil's my friend… I know it's not the same, but…"

Germany sighed, patting Italy's shoulder, "I know. I know, you're trying to help…"

"He's a good big brother. He's tough. Just like you! He'll be ok." Italy smiled reassuringly, trying to give Germany some hope.

Germany nodded, "Ja. Ja, I'm sure he will be. America will help when he can…"

"Maybe… you could find out how he's doing without America's help?"

"And how would I do that?" Germany put his elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand.

"I don't know… but it's easier for you to cross the wall than it is for him, isn't it? Maybe America would let you? You could visit him? Maybe?"

Germany looked back at Italy, "I don't think Russia would allow that…"

"Maybe someone else could go! Someone you trust!"

Germany sighed deeply, trying to think, "There was a young man… he said he wanted to help. He said he wanted to help us take down the wall. He was passionate, brave, willing to do anything. He offered to be a spy. He was so young I turned him down, the kid was maybe 16? Too young to be a soldier…"

"Young enough to not draw much suspicion once he's across though."

Germany nodded, "True. I just… I don't want to put any more men in danger…"

Italy sighed, "I know. But if he wants to go, and he could help Gil…"

Germany nodded again, "Ja. I'll talk to him again today," he stood.

"Food first!" Italy stopped him, concerned.

"Oh, right!" Germany smiled at Italy, sitting back down and tasting the food. It was fantastic. He smiled again, "It's very good," he turned back to the plate, scarfing down as much food as he could as fast as he could. He stood finally, clearing his plate to the sink.

"I'll clean up," Italy stood too, carrying his plate, "You have a lot to do I think…"

Germany nodded, wiping his hands, still chewing his last bite. He waved goodbye to Italy for the day and walked into his office. He didn't bother to sit down, flipping through stacks of papers, looking for the name of the young potential spy.

 _Cort Müller_

* * *

A/N: Another chapter up today! I got a chance to write while on set since I have very little to do this week! And a HAPPY CHAPTER! More Young Luddy and Big Brother Prussia! yay! The fencing training game they play is actually one I learned from my own fencing master! I think it's quite fun, and definitely improved my balance!

A twist for you all at the end, also showing some of the progression of time with it as well. Surprise! You didn't think I was done with this family, did you? ;)

Thank you guys so much for reviewing! I got SO MANY reviews on the last chapter and it made me so happy! A much lighter chapter here, though still with depth I hope. Germany is very upset and concerned about his big brother (who he loves very very much, obviously), and Italy can only comfort him so much... :(

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated! I love you all! Cookies, hugs, and lemonaide for all of you! Let's throw in some M&M's too. M&M's are important! :D


	40. Chapter 40: Guns

Chapter 40

GDR took a deep breath as the car pulled up to the same hotel he always stayed at in Berlin. He shook his head, opening the door. It'd been years since his last trip to Berlin, almost seven years. He didn't look up at the city as he walked up to the front door of the hotel.

"May I help you, sir?" A bright eyed young boy asked him.

GDR didn't look at the child, "Ja, the luggage is in the car," he nodded back, never turning.

"Of course, sir!"

GDR walked into the hotel, walking to the desk. None of the staff was the same, and he was grateful for it.

"You're in room 244, sir," the girl at the front desk chimed.

His heart sunk. It was his usual room, the one he'd stayed at every single time before. He took the keys without asking for a different room.

He walked up the stairs slowly, the boy catching up to carry his luggage behind him. Gil couldn't help but notice the child's blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He looked away. He couldn't look at him.

"Just leave the luggage here by the door," GDR said simply, still not ever turning to the boy.

"Of course, sir," The boy replied, pausing after setting down the luggage.

Gil pulled a 20 mark note from his pocket and slipped it into the boy's hand without looking.

"Sir… this is… I think you've given me the wrong note, I…"

"Nein habe ich nicht. (No I didn't)" Gil turned to the boy just once. "Now go."

The boy stared up at Gil for a moment before running down the stairs.

GDR sighed, shaking his head. He picked up his own luggage and brought it into his room. He glanced at the bed for a moment, then threw his luggage onto the table beside the window, pressing his hands on it, leaning over it with another deep sigh. He shook his head, annoyed at his own weakness. He looked back at the bed. He took off the jacket of his uniform and hung it on the rack near the door. He pulled off his tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. He let himself fall onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes. He remembered everything. Every single moment of desperate passion when he'd used her as his drug. Every kiss, every move, every word she said, her skin against his, her nails digging into his back, his hands tangled in her hair, the way she'd fallen asleep on his chest like they were really lovers… but they hadn't been lovers. They used each other, that was all. She got information and protection from him, and from her he took desperate distraction, but neither of them had actually loved each other, not that night. He opened his eyes, turning to the space next to him on the bed. Had he loved her? Actually loved her? He couldn't remember. He didn't want to remember it, any of it. He couldn't force the memories away. He wanted to be free of her. She couldn't haunt him. He wanted to forget her. He just wanted to forget her. He rolled onto his side crawling further up the bed to rest against the pillow. He closed his eyes, falling asleep.

He woke a few hours later to a knock on the door. He groaned, sitting up, running his hand through his hair. "What?" He called.

"There's a message for you, sir, from the general." The same boy as before said, his voice muffled by the door.

GDR sighed, "All right." He stood slowly, and opened the door, taking the note without looking at the boy. "Danke," he said as he closed the door again. He opened the note, which simply informed him of the first meeting time. It was scheduled for several hours later.

GDR turned on the radio and sat on the bed again for a moment before turning to the closet again. He listened to the news, most of it boring, while he changed into his uniform. He adjusted it without a mirror for as long as he could, wanting to spend as little time in front of it as possible. He didn't look at his own face, just at the uniform, once he was in front of the mirror. He sighed deeply, turning off the radio before walking out of the room.

…

GDR set the empty glass from his fourth drink on the bar counter, motioning for another. He wasn't even close to drunk, barely even tipsy. He wanted to be drunk. The band was playing behind him, rock, his new favorite. Austria could keep the classical piano. The place was packed. It was almost more of a club than a bar, unofficially. He glanced around the room, waiting for the fifth drink to be set in front of him. His eyes met a pretty blond's. She was slender, with a short skirt and legs for days. He smirked. She was distracting and that was all he needed. He smiled as she stood, walking up to the bar and sitting beside him.

"The music is good tonight, huh?" She smiled, her red lipstick tempting.

He nodded, "So it is." He forced himself to keep his eyes on her face, "You're not from Berlin, where are you from?" he asked casually.

"Oh! You caught me. And here I was trying to blend in…" her voice was like butter, "I'm from the South East. I'm only in Berlin for a little while… I wanted to see the city," She smiled, lifting her drink to her lips.

GDR smirked, "Oh really?" he looked her over.

"Ja, you're from the north I think?"

He nodded, "Ja…" he smiled again, noticing her eyes traveling down, then back up to his face, "Like what you see?"

"I could ask the same of you…" she smirked.

"I haven't been to the southern part of the country before… perhaps you could tell me about it somewhere more… private?" He smirked.

"Where did you have in mind?"

"You're the lady, where would you like?"

She smirked, glancing him over again less than subtly, "There's a lounge in the back. Not everyone knows about it, but I do, and now you do."

GDR nodded, "Perfect."

She smiled, stepping off the high bar chair and motioning for him to follow her.

GDR let her lead him around the corner to the back. He smiled at her again as she opened the door to the lounge room. It was more than obvious what it was designed for. She looked up at him, smiling. She turned her back to him, setting her drink down on the table beside the velvet couch. She inhaled sharply as she felt his gun press into her back.

"Turn around."

She listened.

"Who are you?"

"What do you mean, sir? I'm just a girl from the south up visiting Berlin…"

"No, you're not. Don't lie. I don't like liars." he motioned for her to sit on the couch, sitting opposite her on a chair, never lowering his gun from aiming at her chest. "Now, you're pretty good, I won't lie either. Definitely attractive, you have that technique down, I'm sure. I've had girls go for me pretty quickly before… but no one moves that fast, and you missed your accent. You're American. No! Don't lie. You're American."

She sighed deeply, "Yes, I'm American."

"What's your name?"

"Anne," she said, the tempting chocolate still in her voice.

"Who sent you?"

"Alfred Jones."

GDR rolled his eyes, "So that means you know?"

"Know what?" She cooed.

"I said 'don't lie'!" he snapped, moving the gun to her head.

"Ok, ok! Yeah, I know…" her voice changed to a simple sound as she raised her hands slightly. She kept her eyes fixed on the gun.

"What do you know?"

"I know that Alfred Jones is America himself, as a country… and that he's been working with your brother, who's very worried about you…"

"I don't have a brother," GDR shook his head, ignoring the sting of pain the words caused.

"Well, Ludwig still does…" She said, looking straight into his dark red eyes.

"How long have you been a spy for America?"

"A few years…"

"Then you know too much. I'm sorry." He sighed, lowering the gun to her chest and fired.

Anne gasped for breath, grabbing at her chest, blood seeping from her red lips. She looked at GDR, terrified.

He sighed, sitting next to her on the couch, "I'm so sorry… I wish I could keep you alive. At least I won't ruin your pretty face…" he touched her cheek gently and let the barrel of his gun press against her chest. He put a bullet in her chest, catching her body as it fell into his arms. He stood, laying her down on the couch gently.

"I really am sorry," he sighed, standing and looking down at his shirt, which had blood all over it. He growled in frustration, holstering his gun. He walked out of the lounge into the main area of the club. He turned to the bartender.

"It turns out one of your guests was an American spy. Be glad I was there to stop her!" he snapped authoritatively.

The bartender jumped, terrified, "Are… are you going to shut us down…?"

"Nein. Not right now, anyway."

"Y-you'll never… never pay for a drink in here again sir!"

"Danke, that's very nice of you," GDR smiled, patting the bartender's shoulders with his less bloody hand. He sat back at the bar, then glanced back at his shirt. He couldn't stay, not like that. He sighed, annoyed. "I'll be back," he nodded, standing and walking out of the door. He glanced around the street, walking towards his hotel, which was only a few blocks away. He hadn't bothered to have someone take him in the car. He sighed. The evening wasn't going as he'd planned. His plan had been getting drunk out of his mind and bringing at least one girl back to his hotel room.

GDR felt his hands starting to shake. He needed the drugs too, not just a clean shirt.

…

GDR opened his hotel room door, his shirt sticking to him, the dried blood annoying and crusty. He froze the moment he stepped into his room.

A young man with dark hair and dark eyes stood in his room, looking completely casual apart from the gun on his hip.

"Y… Cort…" Gil stared, his shaking hands only becoming more obvious. _Not now… bad timing… really bad timing!_

The young man looked up, tears of rage in his eyes, "Was it here?" he asked, his voice thick with tears.

"W… what do you…?" Gil looked away from Cort's eyes.

"LOOK AT ME!" Cort stood, raising his gun to Gil's face.

Gil obeyed.

"Who's blood is that?"

"Some American spy," he tried to sound casual, trying to brush it away.

Cort fired a shot into Gil's leg, bringing the man to his knees with a gasp of pain.

Gil looked up at Cort, shocked.

"Was it here?" Cort asked again.

"What do you mean?" Gil repeated, looking up at the young man.

"Was it here that you gave her her death sentence?"

Gil looked down, sighing deeply.

"I SAID LOOK AT ME!" Cort used the gun to lift Gil's chin.

Gil didn't take the gun. It would have been easy, but he didn't take it. "Ja. It is."

Cort fired again, into Gil's chest this time.

Gil choked, trying to swallow back blood.

"Your brother told me everything about you!" Cort's voice was a terrible mixture of anger and pain, his face expressing the same.

Gil couldn't look at him.

"Your brother told me everything about you and the whole 'countries are people' thing. That you can't die, that you're hundreds of years old…"

"Cort…" Gil tried to speak, blood filling his lungs. It wasn't going to kill him, but it hurt like hell.

"No! I'm not listening to you! Not after what you've done!" Tears streamed down Cort's cheeks, "I hate you! I hate you!" He pushed his hair back with both hands, the gun still in his right, "Do you know what happened to us!?"

Gil shook his head, "You got across…"

"My mother died just two years after we crossed the wall. And Gisela is God knows where… and Adelaide is DEAD!" His voice shook with anger, "But you already knew that since YOU KILLED HER!"

Gil nodded, looking up into Cort's face again, trying to steady his own voice, trying to ignore the pain, "Cort there was no way she was going to live… I was trying to protect you and the rest of your family… I'm not justifying anything, but I…"

Cort fired into Gil's chest again, watching the country double over in pain, clutching his bleeding chest, trying to hold back the blood that insisted on rising into his throat. "Don't," he snapped, "I want to see it. I want to see you bleed…"

Gil spit blood from his mouth, letting it drip down his face. He looked up at Cort, who's face held fear almost as much as anger, "Cort… put down the gun…"

"Did you love her?" Cort tried to hold back tears, "Tell me did you love her?"

"Yes."

Cort fired again, this time into Gil's stomach.

Gil fell back, turning to the side, coughing blood onto the carpet of the room. He turned back to Cort, forcing himself to sit back up, kneeling.

Cort knelt in front of him, pressing the side of his head against Gil's, holding the gun to his temple so the bullet would kill them both.

"Cort, don't!" Gil pushed the gun away, letting the shot fire into the wall. He grabbed the gun away from Cort and threw it to the side, wrapping his arms around Cort, who's whole body shook with sobs.

"My sister, Gil… you…"

"I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry…." Gil gripped Cort's jacket, holding him tightly.

Cort brought his shaking arms around Gil's back, sobbing against his shoulder. "I hate you…" he whispered into the bloody fabric of Gil's shirt.

"I deserve it… I'm so sorry…" Gil shook his head, his heart racing, his skin crawling with cold hands. He felt dizzy, lightheaded from loss of blood. He tried to ignore it. He couldn't ignore it. "Cort…"

"I want her back, Gil…" Cort sobbed, his voice barely intelligible through the tears.

 _Me too…_ Gil didn't say the words out loud. He didn't want Cort to shoot him again. He was dangerously close to death as it was. He glanced back at his suitcase. He needed the drugs. "Cort…I…" He coughed again, blood pouring from his mouth.

"Gil?" Cort pulled away from the hug, scared, "Gil…?" He looked down at the wounds he'd inflicted. He pushed his hair back again, shaking, "Gil!?"

Gil looked up at him, his head spinning, "I'm so sorry…"

Cort stared at him, shocked, angry, and scared. He didn't want Gil to die again. He'd already watched him die once, and he would never get the image out of his mind. He caught Gil as he fell. He could feel the white-haired country's heart pounding in his chest. He looked around the room for a phone. Finally, he just screamed for help, picking up Gil and moving him to the bed. He ran to the door and opened it, screaming into the hallway, "PLEASE WE NEED HELP! NOW!" No one. He looked back at Gil. What had he done?

* * *

A/N: So Gil is... different... more violent, more unpredictable... and Cort is justifiably angry, but also doesn't want Gil to die again... So many emotions... GDR barely feels anymore... until Cort shows up...

Reviewers are given hugs and cookies and delicious lemonade! Thank you all for your continued patience and support! Love you all! [hugs]


	41. Chapter 41: Sun

Chapter 41

Gil breathed deeply, peacefully. He frowned suddenly, the beeping of hospital machines boring into his mind. He opened his eyes, looking around the room. He had an IV in his arm. He sat up, coughing hard, pulling the tube from his throat, gasping. He looked around the room again, almost frantically. He looked down at his bruised and track marked arms, suddenly realizing he was wearing a hospital gown instead of the blood-soaked button-down from the night before. He turned to his side, looking almost behind him. Cort sat on a chair, staring at him with a blank expression.

"W-where am I?" Gil asked, still confused.

"In a hospital."

"Which. Hospital?"

"I don't know, a normal, regular old hospital!"

"Nyet…" Gil shook his head, pressing his hands into his forehead, looking back at Cort, "You brought me to a human hospital!?"

"Where else was I going to take you?" Cort sat up more, irritated. He wouldn't admit that he was scared.

"What did they do to me?"

"They took you into surgery for the bullets… I… I didn't tell them…"

"I don't care about that. I went into surgery? How long ago?" He felt at the bandaged bullet wounds in his chest and leg. They were less painful, healing quickly.

"You've been here two days."

"Two days!? Russia's going to kill me!"

Cort looked down, wrapping his arms around himself, worried.

"You brought me here yourself?"

Cort nodded, glancing up at Gil's arms, then looking away again.

"Cort…?" Gil sighed, looking at his own arms, crossing them, trying to hide the bruises.

Cort opened his jacket, revealing the small leather packet Russia had given Gil for the drugs, "I found these. I gave you some, based on the note inside… I've been giving you some every day while you've been here too. The doctors haven't been saying much to be about anything… I'm sure they've noticed your arms but…" He set the small case on the side table in the room.

"I'm sure they have much more to discuss about me than just the drugs," Gil rolled his eyes, "There's a reason countries don't go to human hospitals! Too many annoying questions to answer…" Gil shook his head, then looked back at Cort, "Are you all right?"

"Am I all right!? That's what you have to ask me!?" Cort stood, clenching his hands into fists. "I shot you, Gil… four times… and… and… and I still hate you. I do. I still hate you."

"I'm not arguing with you or blaming you. I deserve it. Hate me."

Cort stared at him for a moment, hands clenched into fists. He punched Gil's face, hard enough to split the skin on his knuckles.

Gil brought his hand to his cheek. The skin was in tact, but he would bruise. He looked back at Cort, noticing his bleeding hand.

"Someone should teach you how to punch so that doesn't happen." Gil sighed.

"I don't have anyone! You took away everyone I cared about, everyone I loved-"

"Cort, I'm over 600 years old, I know what it's like to lose people. Eventually, most countries just get smart and stop meeting humans, we stop interacting with humans, we stop letting humans hurt us when they die. Every human I have ever cared about has died. And every. single. death. you have to deal with in your family is because of me. I helped my brother drag our people into a war. A war where we did unimaginable things. Your father died in that war. My fault. Your sister, Bern, killed by Russian soldiers who were only in Berlin because. of. me. Your sister, Adelaide, is dead because I-"

"Stop it!"

"Because I killed her to save you! Then I shot myself with a prayer that you wouldn't have to live with trying to get revenge because to you I was already dead!"

Cort looked away, shaking, "W-what? Y-you what?"

"I said I shot myself so you would think I was dead. So the little brown eyed boy I'd grown to love like my own little brother, wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life trying to find me and kill me… so that you could… so that you could actually let go of everything that happened… no loose ends… not me… I didn't want to be your loose end." Gil looked into Cort's face, not letting himself cry. He wouldn't let himself cry.

Cort stared back, keeping his eyes fixed on Gil's. Their bright red shade used to scare him a little, but the pain behind them was almost more than he could handle. He closed his eyes, letting tears slip down his cheeks. "I-"

"I'm sorry, Cort. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for destroying everything you loved. I'm sorry. I'm just so so sorry…" Gil looked away, he couldn't watch Cort cry.

There was a long silence that neither of them wanted to break. Cort stood beside the hospital bed, arms crossed over his chest, looking down, trying to hold the tears back. Gil sat in the hospital bed with his hands pressed into his forehead.

Finally, Cort spoke, "I was ten years old Gil!"

Gil sighed, "I know…"

"I was ten years old when I watched you put a bullet in my sister's face… and then I watched you kill yourself. You were just lying there on the ground, and there was so much blood everywhere and…" Cort stopped, his breath catching in his throat. He brushed away the tears on the back of his wrist quickly, "I'll never be able to get her face, or yours, out of my head. Never…"

"Cort…" Gil whispered without turning.

"You were family, Gil! You were my big brother and I loved you! I cared about you and you-"

"Why did you bring me here?" Gil cut him off, quietly.

"What?"

"You could have left me bleeding out in my room. You could have finished me off and left me to die. You could have walked away and let the withdrawal nearly kill me… why did you bring me here?"

Cort didn't answer. "I couldn't watch you die again… When you passed out I held my gun over your face for so long… but I couldn't do it. Because I'm not like you…"

Gil sighed, shaking his head, "No. No, you're nothing like me. You're a much better man than I am…"

Cort looked at him, trying to keep the tears back, "I want to be nothing like you…"

"Good. Don't be. Don't be a d*** thing like me…" Gil glanced down at his arms before looking up at Cort, "You're a good kid. I always thought you were a good kid…"

Cort wrapped his arms around himself, looking away, "Everyone I loved, Gil… I'm alone… I… I don't…"

"Cort-"

Gil's words were cut off as the hospital door opened and a giant of a man walked in, his long tan coat just barely making it through the door before it slammed closed. Russia held a gun in his hand.

"Russia, what are you-"

Russia shot Cort through the knee, sending the young man to the floor with a shriek of pain as he clutched his bleeding leg. Russia walked up to him, grabbing his hair, pulling his head up and shoving his gun under his chin.

"Don't you dare steal my property!" Russia seethed, his eyes flashing.

Cort looked up at him, defiant, but terrified. He didn't struggle.

"Russia, don't! Please don't hurt him!" Gil shook his head, trying to sit up in the hospital bed, but he was still too weak. "Russia please…"

Russia didn't acknowledge Gil, glaring down at Cort.

"You're going to pay for this." Russia snarled. He knelt behind Cort, putting his hand over the boy's mouth, forcing his head back against his shoulder. He looked up at Gil, smiling. He emptied his gun into Cort's right leg, tearing it to shreds.

Gil shook his head, covering his face, trying to ignore Cort's muffled screams of pain.

Russia smiled, keeping his hand over Cort's mouth, "Now, you're going to leave."

Cort nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"And if I ever see you on in Easter Berlin again, I'll toss your body over the wall myself, is that clear?"

Cort nodded again, struggling a little.

"Good, now get out of here," Russia stood, grabbing his hair again, forcing him to stand on his unbroken leg, his other dragging behind him.

Cort looked back at Gil, his face scared and angry. He forced himself out of the room, shuddering at the trail of blood that followed him.

Russia grabbed Gil's face immediately, "You're sloppy!"

"I didn't know he was here!"

"That's no excuse. You should have killed him the moment you saw him."

"Sure, make him a kid-martyr, that's a great idea," Gil rolled his eyes.

Russia struck him, hard, with the back of his hand, "Don't you ever talk to me like that again, is that understood?"

Gil nodded, keeping his head down.

"And you," Russia grabbed his face, turning it towards his own, "You let a 17-year-old take you down, and you've failed at everything else I asked you to do here? What do you think I should do about that?"

Gil didn't answer, looking down, trembling a little. He hid his hands under the sheets, not wanting to give Russia the satisfaction of seeing them shaking.

"I have something special to teach you about obeying me, how does that sound Ptitska?"

GDR nodded, shaking still.

…

"Russia please…" Gil begged as Russia tied his hands behind his back to a pillar. He'd been stripped to his shorts. He was freezing. The snow on the ground bit at his ankles. The sun beat down on his bare skin, bouncing off the snow, attacking his eyes.

"6 hours. After that, you can come inside, Ptitska, like nothing, ever happened."

Gil struggled, "Please, I'm sorry… I'll do anything you ask…"

"This is what I'm asking for! Don't worry, GDR, it's cold, but it won't kill you."

Gil looked down, shaking already, the icy wind nipping his skin as he trembled.

Russia smiled, patting Gil on the shoulder before walking inside, ignoring Gil's cries for mercy.

Gil shook more, looking around, squinting. The snow was bright against the midday sun. They were back at Russia's house, in front of his mansion. If it wasn't so deadly, it would have been beautiful. He struggled a little at the handcuffs around his wrists. They were only single locked, he could struggle without hurting himself more. They were still painful. He shivered, feeling his back growing hot as the sun assaulted his white skin. He closed his eyes, the light from the sun's bounce against the snow almost blinding him. His legs shook. He didn't think he could keep standing, but kneeling involved the snow gaining more contact with his skin. He figured it was worth it. He knelt. He was wrong. It was worse: colder. He shivered again. His eyes refused to stay open against the bright white light. He closed them, letting his head fall to his chest as he passed out.

…

Gil winced in pain, opening his eyes to see Lithuania rubbing a tan-colored cream into his arms and chest. He looked down at his body. He was burned, badly, his skin raised and red, blistered in many places. He shivered again, still cold. He moved his fingers and arms, they were ok. He was ok…

"How long was I…?"

"You barely lasted an hour out of 6 before passing out. I'm pretty impressed, to be honest," Lithuania said flatly.

Gil nodded, looking up at him.

Lithuania sighed, "he's becoming more and more of an expert in torturing people without leaving a mark. Though in this case I certainly hope you tan.

"I don't. I just turn from a lobster into… something that peels…? Anyway, that's what I am: pale."

Lithuania sighed, "Your back is worse."

Gil shook his head, sighing back, "I'm sure it is…" He looked up at Lithuania, "Thank you… for all your help."

"Gil…"

"What?"

"Gil, I'm sorry. I'm sorry and I forgive you. That's all," he said, almost awkwardly, and practically ran out of the room.

Gil watched him close the door behind him, and turned back to his shoulders. They hurt.

"Stupid sunburns…"

* * *

A/N: Wait, the author lives!? Yes! Yes, she does! Sorry guys, it's been PREEEETY crazy on set the past week and a half (we shot with over 30 extras for all of last week, and every day this week has 8+ people every day as well, more work for meeeee!) Cort and Gil are beginning to just barely start healing from the trauma they've both been through, which is great! But then... Russia... (obviously) And another very, VERY real torture used on Russian prisoners. Outside, standing in the sun for hours upon hours. This of course being especially cruel to Gil. Since his skin is so white, he's going to burn very easily. VERY easily. I'm quite sleep deprived at this point, so here's hopeing this chapter is loved by you all!

As always, reviews are so lovely and appreciated! They keep me excited to keep writing! Cookies and hugs and lemonaide for all of you! As well as some of our on-set snacks. I'll sneak some for you guys. ;)


	42. Chapter 42: Lover

Chapter 42

Lithuania closed Gil's door with a sigh. His hands were shaking. He turned, inhaling sharply in surprise as Belarus practically flew into his arms.

"Bela, what's wrong?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her, feeling her shaking.

"You. You, I was so scared Torshka…"

"What? What scared you?" Toris pulled her away, touching her cheeks, looking into her terrified face.

"You were in Russia's office for hours… what did he-"

"Nothing. Just business. I promise," Lithuania nodded, "He's not always a monster."

"He's never a monster…" Belarus looked down.

Lithuania sighed, choosing not to respond.

Belarus looked up at Lithuania, touching his cheek, "I know. I know I shouldn't defend him… but…"

"I get it, he's your brother. I do understand…"

"I'm just glad you're safe…" Belarus shook her head, reaching up and pulling his lips down to her own.

He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her waist, sliding them up her back, "Uh uh…" He shook his head, pulling her away, breathing hard, "It's the middle of the day, and I have work to do, I can't…"

"Shut up, Torshka," She shook her head again, pulling him down again. She kissed him, letting her hands tangle in his dark hair.

He didn't fight her, taking her hand, leading her into his room, letting her pull his jacket off his shoulders. She kissed his chest as she unbuttoned his shirt. He winced a little as the fabric moved against his back. He put his hands on hers, gasping.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing…" He shook his head, looking down at her with a smile.

She stood, looking up into his eyes, "No, something is wrong. Are you still afraid of them…?" She sighed, looking down. "You're not afraid of me, are you!?" She took a step back but didn't let go of his hands.

"No! No, not of you…"

Belarus smiled, kissing him again, sliding her hands up his chest and over his shoulders under his shirt, letting it slip off.

Lithuania let his shirt fall to the floor, wrapping his arms around Belarus as her hands touched his back so gently. He kissed her hair as she laid her head on his chest, letting her hands caress his scars. She looked up at him, smiling gently, brushing the tears away from his cheek.

"Do you love me?" He whispered, breathing harder as she kissed his neck, "Do you really, actually love me?"

Belarus looked up at him, nodding. She walked behind him, laying her cheek against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist. She turned to his scars and kissed them, all of them, smiling gently as she felt him relax.

He turned around suddenly, grabbing her waist, untying the sash of her dress. He brought her hands to his lips, kissing her fingers.

"Torshka…" She whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"Hmm?" he whispered back, kissing her wrists.

"Please stop letting him hurt you…" She looked into his face as he stopped, staring back at her.

He didn't speak for a moment, looking into her face. "If he's hurting me, he's not hurting anyone else…" He shook his head.

"That isn't right, Torshka… you know that isn't right. He… he can't…" She sighed, laying her head on his chest, letting him wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer, her cheek against his skin, "Torshka…?" She looked up at him, touching his face, "Have you ever thought about leaving?"

Lithuania froze, stunned by the question. "I… I don't…" he'd never considered leaving. "No. No, I can't leave. I can't, they need me. Latvia needs me, Gil needs me… you need me…?"

Belarus nodded, "Of course I need you, but I can't watch him hurt you anymore! I can't watch it happening, and I can't stop him from hurting you… he's getting more and more afraid of me, but I can barely protect you anymore and-"

"Stop," he rest his finger against her lips, "Stop. I don't need you to protect me."

"And why not!?" She shook her head, putting her hands on his face again, worried, "You protect everyone. You protect everyone until it kills you. And then you do it all over again! Why can't I protect you? Why can't I help you? Why can't you leave!? Why don't you just leave…?"

"Bela…" He leaned down to kiss her, hoping to end the conversation.

"No!" She pushed him back, shaking her head, her eyes welling up with tears, "Don't. Don't make me miss you. Don't you dare stay here for me. Don't you dare…"

Lithuania looked away, wrapping his arms around himself. He sighed, closing his eyes, "I can't leave, Bela… I can't…"

"Fine. Fine, stay here and let him kill you!" She shook her head, running out of his room and slamming the door behind her.

…

Belarus ran up to the door of her brother's room and slammed her knife through it, hard enough to break through the door. "BIG BROTHER!?" she snarled. She smiled, hearing a loud crash on the other side of the door. "Open your door… I want to play." She pulled her knife from the door and held it, turning it around her fingers, completely comfortable with the blade. "Big brother…?"

"Go away!" Ivan's shaking voice came through the door.

Belarus smiled, lifting her knife again, "I said, I want to see you!" She jammed the knife between the door and the frame, trying to break the wood so she could unlock the door.

"And I said 'go away!'" Russia's voice was still trembling, but there was anger in it now.

Belarus wasn't afraid. She broke open the door and stomped into her brother's room, twirling the knife still. She smiled, staring at Russia, who had pressed himself into a corner. "I just said I wanted to play!" She smiled, walking up to him, aiming her knife at his face. She kissed his cheek, "I miss you, big brother."

He pushed her away, "Get. Out."

"No!" She brought her knife across his face.

Russia grabbed both of her wrists, "Don't make me lock you up!"

"I'd like to see you try!" She struggled free, still gripping her knife. She stabbed his arm, digging the fingers of her weapon-free hand into the wound, licking the blood as she stared into his face.

"Stop it," he snapped, grabbing her wrists again, "Stop it or I will keep you locked up downstairs like an animal."

"Do you love me, big brother?" She looked up into his face, making her eyes big and sad. She licked the blood off her lips.

He didn't answer, "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you…" She looked back at the wound she'd created on his arm, then back at the one on his face. She wrenched her hand free of his grip and wiped her thumb against the cut on his face, cleaning the blood, licking it off her fingers again.

"I told you to stop that!" Russia growled, annoyed.

"Your blood is so beautiful though…" she pouted.

"That's it!" Again, he took her wrist.

"No! No, I won't go to the basement! I won't do it!" She struggled, flipping her knife in her fingers, stabbing his wrist.

Russia made no acknowledgment of pain and kicked her to her knees.

Belarus squeaked in pain, dropping to her knees, letting go of the knife as Russia gripped her wrist so hard she couldn't keep her hold on it. She looked up at him, still unafraid.

"Please… please don't hurt me, big brother…" She looked up at him, letting a few tears slip down her cheeks.

Russia sighed, and knelt in front of her, letting go of her wrists. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a gentle hug, "I won't hurt you, Bela. I don't want to hurt you. But you can't… you can't do things like that. Please, you need to calm down…"

Belarus nodded, sobbing, not even bothering to struggle against the hug, "Do you love me, big brother?"

"Of course I do…" he sighed, holding her.

"Why do you want to hurt people?"

"I don't!" Russia shook his head, sighing again.

"Yes, you do! You hurt everyone! Why do you hurt everyone?" she shook her head disapprovingly.

"Only when they deserve it. You know that…"

"I know… but…"

A loud crash broke through their words from the hallway.

Russia groaned, annoyed. He stood, letting go of Belarus, "Please be good," he whispered, exasperated.

Belarus nodded, following closely behind her brother as he walked into the hall. She covered her mouth to keep from gasping. Lithuania had dropped a tray of very old, very valuable dishes. They'd shattered, and his hands were cut and bleeding from the broken ceramic. He looked up at Russia. She hadn't seen that much fear in his face in a long time. She watched in horror as Russia kicked Lithuania onto his back, pressing his boot into her lover's chest. She shook her head, running forward. She pushed Russia away, falling to her knees in front of Lithuania, putting her arm over his chest, resting in on the ground. She held up her other hand to Russia.

"Vanya don't hurt him!"

Russia and Lithuania froze, too shocked to react for a moment. Lithuania didn't take his eyes off Belarus, terrified.

Russia looked back down at them, his eyes meeting his sister's. He frowned, but his face still held shock, "You… you would defend Lithuania? Why?"

"Does it matter!?" Belarus shook her head, "Why do you hurt people? Why do you have to hurt people!?"

Russia smiled, his sweet, childlike, unnerving smile. "Because they deserve it. Look at this mess, Bela. Tell me he doesn't deserve at least a little teaching for this."

"I'll do it!"

"What?" Russia stared at her, then laughed, "You'll what?"

"I'll do it! I'll hurt him! I want to. He gets in the way!" Belarus feigned anger, her hands shaking. She prayed Russia wouldn't notice.

Russia smiled again, pulling his pipe from his coat. He offered his free hand to his sister, helping her stand. He handed her the pipe and motioned to Lithuania.

"W-wh- you… you want me to do it right here?" She looked back at her brother.

Russia nodded with a smile, "Why not?"

"Blood stains are really annoying to get out of carpet…" Belarus shook her head, her hands still shaking.

Russia paused for a moment, looking down at Lithuania, "That's true." He smiled again, grabbing Lithuania by the hair and dragging him to the top of the stairs. He kicked the dark-haired country down the grand staircase. Lithuania didn't move as he fell over the last step onto the ground below.

Belarus forced herself not to cover her mouth as she watched his body crash against the stairs and saw the cuts on his arms.

"There. No more carpet," Russia smiled.

Belarus nodded, following him down the stairs.

Lithuania tried to pick himself up off the tile floor. Everything hurt. He looked back at Belarus. He wasn't sure what he wanted her to do. Even if Russia watched the whole time, her strikes wouldn't be as hard as his.

Russia walked up behind Belarus, who still held the pipe with shaking hands, "Is it too heavy for you?" he asked kindly.

Belarus nodded, "A little… da…"

Russia nodded back, taking the pipe from her gently, "Would you rather draw?" He smirked, taking a small knife from his belt.

Belarus forced herself to grin, nodding, "Yes!" She took the knife and looked down at Lithuania, "What would you like me to draw?"

"Anything you like," Russia smiled, leaning down at pulling Lithuania up to his knees roughly. He pulled off Lithuania's military jacket, and tore off his shirt, exposing his back. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Russia smiled, touching Lithuania's scars.

Lithuania winced, shaking, biting back tears of anger, pain, and frustration as Russia almost caressed his back. He hated it.

Belarus looked at the scars and nodded, "Very beautiful," she said, trying to hide comfort in her voice, hoping Lithuania would catch it.

Lithuania smiled slightly, the warmth in her voice reassuring.

"So, what am I drawing?" Belarus smirked, looking down at the knife. She licked it, "It's so sharp!" she grinned, "It's perfect!"

"You're not the only one who knows how to keep a good blade," Russia smiled, looking up at her, "And I said you can draw whatever you want." He stood, stepping away from Lithuania's back, letting her kneel behind the dark-haired country.

"I don't know…" Belarus looked up at Russia.

"How about 'Lover'."

Belarus didn't move. She didn't turn to look back at Russia, "I-Ivan? What are you talking about?"

Russia laughed, "You thought I didn't know?

Belarus looked down, shaking more, "H-how l-"

"How long have I known? Not very long… I was worried you both knew I caught you two upstairs. I guess you didn't see me. You two really do love each other…" Russia shook his head, "This isn't acceptable of course. Bela, I believe you were going to draw on his back…?"

"Vanyka please… please don't make me hurt him…"

"You volunteered," Russia shrugged, "I assume because you didn't want me to hurt him even more?" he smiled, "If you don't do what I've asked you to… I will hurt him. And you'll watch, chained to the wall, unable to get to him, and I will make him cry for you."

Lithuania shook his head, looking away, trembling, "Bela… Bela just… please…" he bit his lip, leaning against the ground, his hair falling in front of his face.

"I can't…" She shook her head. She couldn't hurt him. She couldn't watch her brother hurt him. She had to hurt him. "Do you still want me to write 'lover'?"

Russia laughed, "Why not? It's fitting I think!"

Belarus pressed the tip of the knife against Lithuania's skin. She tried to choose a thick scar, one that had very little feeling left, trying to keep the pain from being worse, "Big brother, please…" she whispered again, shaking her head.

"I. gave. you. an. order." Russia snapped.

Lithuania set his jaw. He said nothing, closing his eyes.

"Liet, Liet, you'll never guess what-"

Lithuania looked up, turning around to see Poland standing halfway up the stairs, the blonde country's green eyes wide with horror, staring straight at his back.

Poland brought both hands to his mouth, shaking his head, his whole body trembling. He didn't take his eyes off Lithuania's back. He screamed suddenly, shaking, unable to move from where he stood. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, bringing his hands from his mouth to his ears, covering them, "No!" he gasped, opening his eyes again, looking right at Lithuania's back again. He shook his head again, letting his eyes meet Russia's.

Russia met Poland on the stairs, realizing instantly the country wouldn't be able to move. He shoved the small blonde country down the rest of the stairs, smiling as he landed close to Lithuania. Russia walked back down the stairs, grabbing Poland's arms, pulling him up.

"Watch," Russia ordered, nodding to Belarus.

"Russia please… not with Poland here, I can't do this to him, I-" Belarus looked down, her words cut off by her brother's voice.

"If you aren't drawing in 10 seconds, I'll make you both watch what I'll do to him," he snapped, gripping Poland's arms tight enough to draw a satisfying cry of pain from the smaller country.

Belarus turned back to Lithuania, "I'm so sorry, love…"

"Do it," Lithuania kept his head down. He couldn't look at Poland's face.

Belarus laid the tip of the knife on the thick scar again and pressed the knife into it, drawing a firm line down for the beginning of the 'L'.

Lithuania didn't flinch. He'd barely felt it. She was doing well. He could feel blood dripping down his back as she continued. He wouldn't make a sound. He couldn't.

Poland shook his head, "STOP IT! RUSSIA MAKE HER STOP IT!" he struggled, kicking at Russia, trying to get free.

"Nyet," Russia shook his head.

Poland watched as Belarus pressed the knife into Lithuania's skin for the next letter. He felt sick. He screamed again for Russia to stop. Nothing. No answer. "Please… please stop it…"

Lithuania never screamed. Not once. He stretched his shoulders as Belarus finished the last letter, dropping the knife and bursting into tears.

"Well?" Russia smiled, angry, "Aren't you going to clean up the blood? You did for me."

Belarus looked up at him, shaking her head, "Please…"

"Or should I ask Poland?" Russia smirked as Poland struggled again.

Belarus shook her head, turning to Lithuania again. She put her hands on his shoulders, trying to be comforting. She kissed one of his unbroken scars and licked at the bloody letters, looking up at Russia, hate in her eyes.

Lithuania winced as her tears dripped into the wounds, stinging. He looked up at Russia as he felt her let go of his shoulders, and heard her stand behind him.

Poland immediately fell to his knees as Russia released his arms, his expression blank, his eyes empty. He didn't look at Lithuania. He didn't look at anything. He closed his eyes, passing out.

Lithuania dragged himself to Poland, moving the blonde hair away from the country's face, trying to lift his head gently, "Felya…?"

Belarus looked up at Russia, standing, wiping the blood off her lips, "Someday, when I get out of here, I'll hurt you. I'll make you pay for everything you're doing to Torshka… someday…"

Russia slapped her, grabbing her face and turning it towards him again, "I'd like to see you try. Remember, little sister, I own you too."

"But you're getting weaker, aren't you?"

Russia didn't reply, slapping her again, "Take care of it," he snapped, nodding to Poland and Lithuania as he turned to walk back up the stairs.

* * *

A/N: Woohoo new chapter! (and going into the last week of filming starting on Monday, so more updates to come! I hope to get another one up tomorrow, but no promises!) No Gil in this chapter, obviously. Quite a bit of LietBel in this one (including some almost teasing... sorry not sorry... that's all your getting though. Especially for this couple. Not much more for this couple. I'm sorry LunaTheBlackWolf...), but for a reason. LOTS of VERY big hints of things to come in this chapter. I can't spend too much time on Gil, too depressing. While he's getting worse, some of the others are getting better... and Russia may or may not be getting weaker...? *Dramatic 'thinking' face* Hmmm

The first (I think?) actual changing-canon scene I have I do believe. I need Poland to discover Lithuania's scars dramatically. So that's what I've done. They're going to have some things to talk about later... if Poland is even capable of forming complete sentences after this "little" setback...

Hopefully, the characters seem right here. My Belarus is a bit different (or at least very heavily added onto) than most versions of her.

As always, (as I always say!), reviews are so appreciated! You guys are reviewing so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Danke! Spasiba! Thank you!


	43. Chapter 43: Resignation

Chapter 43

GDR ran into Russia's office, opening the door and staring at the bigger country, terrified.

"I just heard that-"

"I know…" Russia looked up. He was standing, leaning against his desk, his gloved hands and arms shaking. His voice was quieter than GDR was used to hearing it, and his eyes were tired, "America's president just resigned."

GDR said nothing, stepping fully into the room. He closed the door behind him and stood to attention, "What's our plan?"

"I don't know yet. His new president means business. I'm already losing this war…" Russia shook his head, sitting down in his chair, exhausted.

"Are you all right?" GDR walked forward, closer to Russia, looking at him, concerned.

Russia nodded, "Yes, I will be," he sighed, pressing between his eyes for a moment before looking back up at GDR, "How's your skin?"

GDR looked down at his hands. The skin was peeling badly, but it was less painful than before. "I'm all right."

"And you've learned your lesson, Ptitska?" Russia smiled a little, kindly.

GDR nodded, "Of course. I was stupid in Berlin. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. All is forgiven." Russia nodded back with a bigger smile, "You're a good friend, GDR."

GDR smiled back, "Spasiba."

"Now, I suppose you will be wanting another assignment?"

GDR nodded again, "Ja, if you have one."

Russia smiled, "Yes. There is a celebration being planned for you. 25 years as the German Democratic Republic. I want you to be in Berlin for the festivities."

GDR nodded.

"I also want you to find any more spies and kill them. I need to make sure your country is strong. America's going to fight back harder. We need to be ready. Your men need to be ready."

"Oh they'll be ready," GDR smirked.

"Khorosho," Russia stood, walking to GDR and putting his hand on his shoulder.

GDR looked up at Russia and smiled.

"Never betray me, GDR. Never betray me, and I'll keep you safe."

"You always do," GDR smiled.

Russia smiled back, then sighed, "I suppose you need your morning dose, am I wrong?"

GDR shook his head, "No, I'm ready."

Russia nodded for GDR to follow him to his desk. He took the drugs from the small drawer where he kept them. "Arm or neck today?"

GDR shrugged, "Arm?" He didn't care anymore.

Russia agreed, readying the syringe.

GDR took off his jacket and set it on the back of a nearby chair. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the bruised, peeling skin hidden by the black fabric. He let his head fall back in relief as the drugs began working almost instantly. He opened his eyes wide suddenly, shaking his head, pulling his arm away from Russia. He fell to his knees, leaning his back against the desk. He covered his ears, trying to blink back the faces that flashed in front of him. He looked up, screaming again to see the four figures standing in front of him, the burning smell invading his senses, stinging down his throat. He coughed, covering his mouth. He looked down at his legs, shaking his head, struggling as he felt Russia's arms wrap around him.

"Sh…" Russia's voice was calm, too calm, "Sh, you're all right…" Russia slid the needle into GDR's neck, giving him another full syringe.

GDR blinked hard, his mind blurring. He couldn't make out shapes anymore, everything turning to black shadows. The smell was oppressive. He could barely breathe.

"Stop struggling," Russia held him tighter, holding his wrists, trying to keep him from fighting back.

"Bitte…" Prussia shook his head, struggling still.

"Stop, GDR, you're safe. I'm keeping you safe, remember?"

GDR nodded, trying to relax. Another syringe of the drugs shot into his blood. He closed his eyes, shaking violently.

Russia helped him to stand, "You're going to be all right, I promise. I'll keep you safe. I take care of what is mine," Russia smiled.

GDR nodded, forcing himself to smile at Russia. He felt sick.

"You should go pack," Russia nodded, "Or do you need to see General Winter again today?"

Gil shook his head, looking up at Russia, terrified.

"Maybe you do…?"

"Nein! Please… I… I'm ok…" He wrapped his arms around himself, shaking his head.

Russia looked at him, disapprovingly, "You're stronger than this. I need you to be stronger than this, GDR. Don't you want to be stronger than this?" Russia shook his head.

Gil looked up at Russia, nodding. He bit his lip. He didn't want this, any of this. He didn't want to be 'stronger'. "Russia please…"

Russia sighed, shaking his head again, "I'll call him in. It won't take long, I promise. I'll be right here."

Gil said nothing, shaking his head, gripping his own arms as Russia called for General Winter. He wanted to fight back. He would fight back. He wouldn't just let Russia do this to him. He couldn't let Russia do this to him. He jumped as the door opened and the giant of a man walked into the room.

General Winter looked irritated, almost more inconvenienced than angry.

Gil shivered as General Winter walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He didn't want to see him. He lowered his arms, clenching his hands into fists. He would fight back. He shivered again as General Winter walked up to him, towering above him, and grabbed his shirt, ripping it open. He gasped as General Winter threw him to the ground. He looked up as Russia knelt above his head and grabbed his wrists. He struggled, kicking at General Winter as Russia held his wrists into the wood floor.

"No, please… please don't…" he barely whispered, still struggling. He closed his eyes as General Winter knelt on his legs, stopping them from defending him. He looked up at General Winter again as the man pulled out a knife and pressed the blade against his chest.

"One sound from you, and you know what I'll do," General Winter's voice was annoyed, sharp with hatred, thick with power.

Gil looked up at him, shaking, arching his back in pain, turning his head to the side and gritting his teeth as the knife dug into his skin. He squirmed, barely able to struggle. He didn't cry out. He couldn't. The last time he'd made any noise General Winter had nearly killed him for it. He managed to glance up at Russia. The bigger country's face was worried, upset. Gil didn't care. He didn't care if Russia didn't like what was happening. He wasn't stopping it. Gil gasped as General Winter's fingers closed around his heart. He struggled again, trying to move his legs, trying to kick General Winter away. He looked to the man's face as he felt his fingers grow tighter around his heart. He opened his mouth to scream in pain, but didn't let it escape. He saw General Winter smile.

"You're doing well," General Winter grinned, his eyes flashing with bloodlust.

Gil gasped for breath as General Winter released his heart, pulling his bloody hand from his chest. He traced his finger over the wound, freezing it shut instantly. Gil struggled, trying not to cry out, turning to his side as General Winter stood and Russia released his wrists. He coughed then stood, looking into General Winter's face.

"Spasiba…" he whispered, breathing hard, trying to stand up straight, dizzy from pain.

General Winter clapped his bloody hand on Gil's face, "You're getting stronger. Every time you do get stronger. How many times has it been now? Seven?"

"Eight," Gil whispered, shivering. Eight times General Winter's hand had nearly crushed his heart. It hurt. Every time he felt pieces of himself slipping away. Hate hated it, but he needed it. More and more he was losing himself, becoming exactly what Russia wanted him to be. The pain was fading, slowly, but surely. He was almost free.

"Now, do what Russia asks you to do, Ptitska," General Winter smiled, "Together, you will both be stronger," he grinned, then turned to Russia, his expression changing to anger. He brought the back of his hand across Russia's cheek, hard, grabbing the giant country's scarf and pulling Russia towards his face, "Keep you little pet under control. You're losing him again. When am I going to have to stop saving you? Just try to be useful for a change," General Winter snarled, letting go of Russia's scarf and walking out of the room without another word.

GDR glanced at Russia, "Are you-"

"Da. I'm fine. Ignore it. You're feeling better now, da?"

GDR nodded, "Da."

"Khorosho. Now, we must plan for your trip."

…

"America?" Germany walked into the young country's room, sitting across the desk from him.

America's face was pale, his breathing shallow. He smiled up at Germany, nodding, "Yeah. I'm fine. I'm getting stronger by the minute, can't you tell?" he smirked, "Russia doesn't stand a chance!"

Germany nodded, but didn't smile back, "You're new president…"

"He's so much better! He isn't lying to people, and he's actually going to try and end this d**n war!" America smiled still.

Germany nodded, "Since… things have changed…"

America sighed deeply, shaking his head, "I still don't have the resources to help Gil, Germany, I'm sorry… if I did I would save him in a heartbeat, but I just don't. I can't. I'm sorry…" America put his hand on Germany's arm for a moment, reassuringly, "But as soon as I can, I'll help you free him, I promised that much, and I intend to follow through with it!"

Germany nodded, saying nothing.

"Ludwig please… please understand."

Germany stood, nodding again, "I understand. I hope your new president is strong. He'll need to be."

"I know you're upset, but-"

"No, it's fine. Rest. Heal. Get better. Defeat your enemies first." Germany sighed deeply.

There was silence for a moment, just long enough for it to become uncomfortable.

"How's the kid?" America tried to change the subject, breaking the silence.

"What kid?" Germany looked at him, confused for a moment.

"The one who got shot? Oh, what was his name…? Cory?"

"Ah, you mean Cort," Germany nodded, "He's doing well."

"His leg?"

Germany sighed, "He's getting used to the prosthetic. He's walking better though, sometimes he can even manage without the cane."

"That's good," America smiled sadly, "Did he give you more information about the other side of the wall?"

Germany nodded again, "Ja, a lot actually, especially about Gilbert. I'm already making preparations for when he comes back."

"The drugs?" America looked down, he understood.

Again, Germany nodded, "Ja. I have some of the best doctors working on how to help him. They say it won't be easy but…"

"Well he's going to have great help," America looked up at Germany, smiling.

"Danke," Germany looked down. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to help his brother once he crossed the wall. How badly damaged was he? Cort had said he was nothing like himself, that he didn't even stand up to Russia anymore. He was more nervous than he would admit to. How much damage had Russia done to his brother's body, or worse, his mind?

"You should go now," America motioned towards the door, "I have a lot of work to do," he sighed, then looked back up at Germany with a smirk, "It's pretty hard being the hero sometimes, you know?"

Germany rolled his eyes with a very slight smile, "I wouldn't know."

"Hey…" America sighed again.

"Kidding. I know you work hard. Like I said, rest well. This is the first time something like this has happened to you, isn't it?"

America nodded, "But I'll make it! I always do!"

Germany sighed, nodding back, "Good. I'll go then."

"Say 'hi' to Italy for me!" America grinned, watching Germany walk towards the door, "And thank him for the pizza. It's definitely cheering me up."

Germany smiled slightly, "I'll be sure to tell him. He'll be glad to hear it."

"Yeah. I bet." America smirked, watching Germany leave. He sighed, looking back towards the stack of papers on his desk. He crossed both arms over the wood and let his head fall into them. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

A/N: Another update for you all! Because I love you! (and I'm not sure if I'll be able to update this week due to filming, we'll see. (my call time is 8:45 tomorrow, and I'm dying of happiness guys... it's been 5:30 am most days, so I have been usually dying of early-mornings... *is a night-owl... obviously...* it's 1:13 am uploading this... because I'm stupid like that XD)

Lots of things happening in this one. Russia's being nice (as much as he knows how), and trying to help Gil (even though he's failing). Gil is slipping between wanting to feel everything and wanting to feel nothing. He's just not doing well in general... speaking of General... yeah, he shows up again. And this isn't just the second time he's done this to Gil, as we heard. If this continues for long...

An update on Cort. Poor kid... but Germany is still keeping tabs on him, and his story isn't over yet. In case there was confusion, yes, he lost the leg that Russia destroyed. More details on that later, but he's walking!

Obviously, there were many references to Nixon's resignation in this one, and how it's going to change some things! For those of you interested in a date, this puts us firmly on August 9th, 1974.

As always, thanks to reviewers! I LOVE reading all your reviews! :D :D :D And thanks for the lemonade and pretzels Kattie. Here are some more for you! (fresh pretzels, the best kind!) A thought! I listen to a LOT of music while writing this story, and if you are interested, I could put some of the names of the songs down here in the notes. I'd also LOVE to know what music you guys are listening to that this story reminds you of! :D Just a thought! XD Hugs and cookies for all! And Pretzels! And Lemonade!


	44. Chapter 44: Fine

Chapter 44

"L-Liet?" Poland's voice drifted into the cold room as the door creaked open slowly.

Lithuania sighed, closing his eyes, pulling the covers over his bare and bleeding back. He couldn't sleep. He'd been laying in bed for hours. He felt sick. He didn't turn to look at Poland.

"Are… are you okay?" Poland whispered, stepping closer to his best friend.

Lithuania kept his face turned away from Poland. He winced as he heard Poland's footsteps. He mentally kicked himself for it. He was afraid of Poland now? He pulled the covers closer around his shoulders, hiding his back.

Poland bit his lip, wrapping his arms around himself. He watched Lithuania's shoulders shaking with sobs he tried to hide. "Liet…" Poland's own voice caught with tears, "Liet, did he hurt you again?"

Lithuania shook his head, still keeping his back to Poland, "No."

"I don't believe you!" Poland almost snapped, angry. He stepped closer to Lithuania and reached for the blanket.

"NO!" Lithuania turned around, pulling away from Poland, crying out in pain.

Poland froze, staring at his friend. "L…Liet….?" Poland's voice broke, tears slipping down his cheeks. He reached forward slowly towards Lithuania's face.

"Felya…" Lithuania looked down, letting Poland touch his cheek. He closed his eyes, hiding the pain that caught his breath.

Poland let his fingers brush the dark purple skin on Lithuania's face gently, "I… I thought he didn't… you said he doesn't hurt your face…"

"He usually doesn't," Lithuania pulled his face away, looking down.

Poland bit his lip, wrapping his arms around himself again. He looked at his friend's bare chest as the country hid his back from him. Lithuania's ribs were badly bruised, and quickly self-stitched wounds marked his chest. Poland sighed deeply, "I hate him. I hate him so much."

"Are you all right, Feliks?" Lithuania tried to change the subject, sitting up, being careful to keep his back hidden from Poland's view.

Poland nodded, "I wanted to see if you're ok… I… I could hear you…" Poland shuddered, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," Lithuania sighed, keeping his eyes down, "But I'm fine. You can go."

"No, you're not fine!" Poland clenched his hands into fists, looking into Lithuania's face as the country looked up in surprise. "You're not fine and I hate that you keep pretending you are! You help absolutely everyone except yourself! You let him tear you to pieces for everyone in this d**n house and then you won't accept any help! You stitch your own wounds, you clean yourself up when he's done with you like you don't matter at all! Well, you do, and I'm sick of you treating yourself like you don't! You've nearly killed yourself to help me so stop being such an idiot and LET ME HELP YOU FOR A CHANGE!" Poland stamped his foot.

Lithuania stared at him, shocked, "I-" he wasn't sure how to even respond.

"Do you have medical supplies in here somewhere?"

"No," Lithuania shook his head, looking right at the cupboard where he kept them. He didn't want Poland to help him. He didn't want him to see the damage Russia had done.

Poland sighed, walking to the cupboard Lithuania had looked at. He found even more medical supplies than he'd expected.

"Felya-"

"Don't argue with me!" Poland looked back at him, "I'm helping you, ok?"

Lithuania looked away. He wasn't sure if he was grateful or angry. His stomach churned at the thought of Poland seeing his back again.

Poland brought the medical supplies back to the bed and set them down. He grabbed a chair from near the small table in the room and pulled it to Lithuania, sitting in front of him. "I'm going to help you, Liet. And you're going to let me. Ok?"

"Feliks, you don't have to-"

"Liet, please… please I can't do nothing. Don't ask me to do nothing… please… please let me help you."

Lithuania sighed deeply, and nodded slowly, his fingers tightening around the loose sheet. He was terrified.

"Just lay down… and… let me see your back…?" Poland's voice trembled a little. He didn't want to see it again, but he had to. He couldn't let his best friend destroy himself anymore.

Lithuania looked at Poland, his eyes pleading with the kind green eyes of the little country.

Poland shook his head, "No. I have to. Please…"

Lithuania sighed again, nodding. He took another deep breath and turned onto his stomach, pulling his legs up onto the bed, exposing the torn skin on his back to Poland. He closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest as he heard a gasp escape Poland's lips. He turned back to look at him.

"I… I'm ok…" Poland nodded, trying to breathe, trying to force himself not to pass out. Memories flashed in his mind. So much blood… he shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to breathe. He could do this. He could do this.

"Felya…?" Lithuania put his hand on his friend's reassuringly, "I'm ok, really, you don't have to-"

"No! Yes, I do!" Poland shook his head, opening his eyes. He stood, turning to the medical supplies, "I'll be right back…" he took a small bowl into the bathroom. He set the dish in the sink and turned the water to lukewarm. He sighed, looking up into the mirror for a moment, then back down. He didn't like looking at himself. He was still too skinny. The light caught an object near the bathtub, flashing a bright light into his eyes. He blinked, turning to look again, walking towards the tub. His heart jumped. Slowly, he knelt beside the tub, picking up the razor blade that sat on the edge. He ran his finger along the edge. It was dulled from use, but still sharp enough to work. He looked back at the bathroom door, biting his lip. He jumped again as water splashed onto the floor. He'd left the sink running.

"Nnnnnno," he stood, keeping the razor blade in his hand. He ran to the sink and turned off the water, lifting the bowl to let a little water drain before pouring some out of the dish, carrying it back to the bed. He set it down on the nightstand, and turned to Lithuania, his voice low, worried, "Liet… what's this?" he held up the razor blade, his hands shaking.

"Nothing!" Lithuania shook his head quickly, his eyes flashing with fear, "It's nothing, just-"

"It was by the bathtub…" Poland set the blade down on the nightstand, "Liet were you… you weren't…"

Lithuania said nothing, looking down for a moment. The pain in his eyes when he looked up a Poland made the blonde country jump.

"L-Liet no…" Poland shook his head, kneeling beside the bed, grabbing his friend's wrist, covering it with his own hand, holding it gently, "Liet please no… please… why would you…" he couldn't say it. He couldn't even say it.

Lithuania didn't look at Poland.

Tears streamed down Poland's cheeks, "Why would you do something like that? Why? It wouldn't even fix anything, you'd come back in a few hours, and-"

Liet turned to look at him, "Because for a few hours, I wouldn't have to deal with any of it. For a few hours, I wouldn't have to be in pain. For a few hours, everything would go away and I could rest… just for a few hours…"

Poland shook his head, "Please… Please don't, Liet… Please… Please, dying hurts and-"

"You think that matters to me anymore?"

"They killed me over a hundred times and it still matters to me!" Poland almost yelled, looking down almost instantly, brushing the back of his wrist over his eyes. He looked back up at Lithuania, "I'm sorry…"

"No… no, it's ok, you have to right to be angry for-"

"I still shouldn't yell at you…"

"I'm used to-"

"I know! That's why I'm mad at you! Because you put up with it!"

"And what else am I supposed to do!?" Lithuania's voice was hot, "Fight back and let him hurt Bela? Let him hurt you? Or Latvia, or Estonia, or Prussia? Fight back and let him torture more of my people? Destroy more of me than he already has?" Lithuania sat up, angry, hurt, slamming his fists into the bed, "What am I supposed to do!? How the hell am I suppose to fight back without hurting more people that I love!? Don't you get it, I can't! I CAN'T! No matter how much I want to…" Lithuania looked down, fighting tears, "He can do whatever he wants to me… I… I can't watch him hurt anyone else… I can't… I can't do it Feliks, I…" He leaned over his hands, trying to keep the tears back. He didn't want to cry anymore. He looked up, keeping his arms wrapped around himself, "I… I pretend I can protect them from him, but I can't… I can't…" his voice trembled, tears slipping down his cheeks, "I can't protect any of them, not unless he lets me." Lithuania set his jaw, angry, "And he only lets me because I'm his 'favorite'. He says he doesn't like hurting me, but… I don't know if I believe him. Sometimes I could almost, _almost_ call him a friend… then… then he gets angry… he says he hates hurting me, but…" He looked down, sighing deeply.

Poland didn't speak for a moment, looking at Lithuania's face, watching the tears stain his friend's cheeks. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't argue. Lithuania was right, if he tried to defend himself he would end up hurting everyone else in the house. "Can… can I help your back now…?" He asked, his voice shaking.

Lithuania sighed deeply, nodding, "Okay, if you're sure…" He looked back at Poland.

The blond country smiled, nodding, "I'm sure. I want to help you Liet… in any way I can. Please…"

Lithuania nodded again, turning to lay on his stomach again. He closed his eyes, wincing as he felt Poland dab a wet cloth against the broken skin.

"Am I hurting you?" Poland whispered.

"I'm all right," Lithuania smiled at him gently. It wasn't painless, but Poland's touch was kind, gentle.

"Let me know if I hurt you."

Lithuania nodded.

Poland looked at the wounds once they were cleaned, biting his lip, "Some of these need stitches too…"

Lithuania sighed.

"I can do it, it's not like I haven't before… but…"

"Just do it. I'm fine."

"I should get painkillers for-"

"No. Just do it. I'm fine." Lithuania repeated with a sigh.

"If you're sure…" Poland's hands shook. He picked up the needle and thread, turning to Lithuania's back again. He tried to steady his hands. He grabbed his chest suddenly, gasping as memories flooded his mind, overwhelming him. He fell to his knees, dropping the needle, gasping for breath. He brought both hands to his chest, clawing at the deep cut the monster in his head was stitching closed as he screamed and cried in pain, the inside of his body on fire from the 'doctor's' experiments. He shook his head, covering his ears, closing his eyes tightly, screaming in the memory of pain, trying to make it stop, trying to make it go away.

"I'm here…" Lithuania's voice drifted into his mind as he tried to fight back, tried to push away the memories… "I'm right here, you're ok. It's just me, you're ok…" Poland could feel Lithuania's arms around him. He didn't move to hug him back, reality slowly fading back in. He looked around the room, disoriented for a moment. He turned to look at Lithuania, who was kneeling in front of him, holding him.

Poland frowned, pushing Lithuania away gently, clenching his hands into fists. He slammed his right hand into the bed as hard as he could, "I'm supposed to be getting better!" Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Give yourself time…"

"How much more time!?" Poland bit his lip, shaking his head, "I want to help you and I… and I will…" Poland nodded, standing again, offering Lithuania his hand to help him back onto the bed, "I will help you!"

Lithuania looked at Poland, worried, "Felya…"

"No! No, I said I'd help you and I will. I don't care what happened before. I'm fine now!" he instinctively reached to cover the numbers on his arm.

Lithuania sighed, noticing the action, "Okay…" he laid back on the bed, watching Poland closely.

Poland leaned down and grabbed the needle from the floor. He set it down and picked up a clean one, threading it and turning to Lithuania's back again. He took a deep breath and slipped the needle into the skin around the deepest wound.

"We're going to be okay, Liet… we are."

…

Italy sprinkled salt into the pot of water he'd just started heating on the stove. He was going to make the best pasta Germany had ever had. He'd noticed the bigger country was always stressed. It worried him. Germany needed to learn to relax. He'd tried to teach him, but he'd gotten bored and said that painting wasn't relaxing. It frustrated Italy. He'd tried teaching him to dance too, but that was even less effective than painting. Germany could dance very well, but he didn't enjoy a second of it. Unless 'dancing' involved swords. Italy knew how to use a sword, and very well, but he didn't enjoy it. He preferred dancing for enjoyment, for fun. He often wondered if Germany enjoyed having fun, or if he found it tedious. He never was quite sure. He turned around suddenly, hearing the lock turn on the door.

"Germany! You're home early-" Italy froze suddenly, seeing the tall blond stagger in through the door, "Germany are you… are you ok?" he ran up to him, worried.

Germany nodded, "Just… tired…" he forced himself to hide the pain in his voice, "It was a long day at work and I… needed a break. I'll go back after supper… but…" he leaned against the counter, trying to steady his breathing.

"Germany, something's wrong! Tell me what's wrong!" Italy put his hands on Germany's shoulders, terrified.

Germany gripped his side, gasping in pain. He fell to the ground, bringing several dishes with him. They shattered on the ground, cutting his hands. He didn't care. He winced in pain, trying to hold back a low cry.

"Let me see!" Italy moved Germany's hands, almost ripping open the taller man's shirt. A bandage was wrapped around his waist. "W… what…?"

"Never mind… I'm…fine," Germany set his jaw tightly, giving a low grunt of pain.

"No, you're not! Germany what's going on?"

Germany shook his head, not wanting to answer, "T-Terr… There's a new group of… some bombs went off… people got hurt and…"

"And you?" Italy's voice was worried, terrified even. He attacked the bandage, "Let me see…" He pulled back the bandage to find a deep wound. "Luddy…?"

"I'm… all right… I just… a lot of people got hurt and I…" he couldn't swallow down the blood that dripped from his mouth.

"I'm calling America… please let him call him, he can help!" Italy's voice was frantic as he wiped the blood from Germany's lips.

Germany shook his head, "I can handle it! I'll heal in a few days and…" He let out a sharp grunt of pain, closing his eyes. He turned, trying to stand.

"No! Not without help!" Italy pulled Germany's arm over his shoulders and helped him stand, "I've got you…"

Germany smiled a little, weakly, "Usually… I'm the one taking care of you…"

"You may be better at fighting," Italy looked up at him, still worried, "But I'm better at medicine. I'll get you cleaned up and sewn up. Just lean on me ok? We'll go to your room so you can rest!" Italy nodded, determined.

Germany gave a single nod in return, trying not to lean too hard on Italy, steadying himself on the hallway walls as they walked slowly to his room.

"Does…" Germany winced again, "Does this mean I don't get that pasta for supper?"

Italy looked up at him with a soft smile, seeing the pained playfulness in Germany's eyes, "Ve…" he shook his head, rolling his eyes. He helped Germany to the bigger country's bed, helping him take off the formerly white shirt that was stained with blood. He turned to the bandage, starting to unwrap it.

A loud hissing noise erupted from the kitchen.

Italy gasped, "I left water on the stove!" he ran out of the room.

Germany smiled.

* * *

A/N: This was a fun/good chapter to write. Some sad/dark things, and some major bittersweetness happening with Liet and Poland... but also some happiness. Liet is learning to let himself be helped (he's quite bad at it still... but he's trying!) Poland is doing MUCH better than the last time we saw him, and Italy is adorable as usual. Germany's injuries are from a terrorist group called RAF that was most active during the 70's and 80's. Unfortunately, it's going to get a bit worse before it gets better, adding another thing to Germany's plate of things to deal with/stress about. But Italy will try to help.

Filming wraps on Friday, so I should be back to very regular updates! YAY! :D :D :D (but It's really sad guys, I'm gonna miss everyone so badly! You really do become a family on set and I hope I get to work with everyone again really, really soon!)

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated! I LOVE reading all of them! And you guys review so FAST after a new chapter goes up! It makes me so happy to know that you guys are enjoying this story so much! :D :D :D :D Cookies and hugs and lemonade and tea and all things happy and good to all reviewers! (Kattie, thank you for such a long review on the last chapter. It was fun to read!)

Song that REALLY makes me think of Liet: "Skin" by Sixx:A.M.


	45. Chapter 45: Why?

Chapter 45

Russia pressed his hands into his face, leaning his elbows on his desk. He closed his eyes, sighing. A deep, anxious ache had settled into his stomach. He tried to ignore it, swallowing hard. He picked up his half empty glass of vodka and poured it down his throat, letting it burn. The nighttime air was cold, but he was more than used to it. It almost felt good combined with the heat of the alcohol. He looked at the stacks of paper in front of him. Reports, newspapers, propaganda posters that needed approval… so much. Too much. He leaned against the desk again, letting his head rest in his hands. He was so tired.

Russia jumped, looking up from his desk as he heard a knock on the door. He turned to look at the windows as light streamed in. He stood, adjusting his scarf instinctively. He unlocked his door and smiled with a sigh of relief.

"Katya…" he opened his arms for a hug.

Ukraine smiled back, embracing her much taller little brother, "Did you sleep well? It's almost 8 am…" She stopped herself, seeing his bloodshot eyes, the skin around them dark, "You didn't sleep did you?"

Russia shook his head, "Not really…"

"Did you fall asleep at your desk again? Ivan, we talked about this, you have to sleep! You can't do anything if you don't sleep!" She crossed her arms, annoyed.

"Whatever you say, mother," Russia rolled his eyes with a smile.

Ukraine punched his arm playfully, "Really?"

Russia smirked, "So… did you come to see if I was still breathing?"

Ukraine nodded, "The last time you slept until 8 was… I don't even remember when the last time was."

"I have a lot of work left to do…" Russia sighed, shaking his head, taking a step back into his room.

"Let me help you!" Ukraine grinned, following her brother inside his room. She glanced over the mess inside it, "When… when's the last time you cleaned up in here?"

Russia sighed again, "With what time?"

Ukraine nodded understandingly, "While you work, I can clean up. That will help you I think!" she smiled. She went straight for a pile of clothes and started picking it up, putting it in the hamper. She bit her lip, noticing some of the clothes were blood stained, "I-Ivan?" She turned back to look at him, "Why are your clothes…" she motioned to the dried red splatter marks on his shirt.

"It doesn't matter," Russia said without looking up from his desk.

Ukraine watched her brother pour himself another glass of vodka. She knew better than to argue with him about it.

"Just… tell me it's not your blood…"

"It's not my blood," Russia didn't look up from the papers he was signing, reading each one through carefully.

Ukraine bit her lip, worried. She looked back down at the clothes, then up at her brother. Silently, she carried the clothes to the laundry basket and dropped them in. She looked back at Ivan.

The soft morning light streaming in through the window behind him made the giant country look angelic, his almost white-blonde hair practically glowing. The sun kissed his broad shoulders, covered by the grey tee-shirt he almost always wore under the coat. He looked up at his sister, noticing her staring out of the corner of his violet eyes.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing," Ukraine sighed, shaking her head, "It's nothing."

Russia stood, walking up to her, putting his hands on her shoulders, turning her face towards his gently, kindly, "What is it Kotyonok (little kitten)? You seem upset…"

Ukraine smiled up at him sadly, shaking her head again, "Nyet, I'm all right. I'm just worried about you."

Russia smiled at her, "I'm just fine, don't worry. Just, some of the imports from America are becoming difficult…"

"You two aren't exactly getting along…" Ukraine bit her lip again, looking away.

"Nyet. We're not. But we're both alive. For now."

"Don't talk like that!" Ukraine looked up at him, scared.

"I won't fire first. I promise."

"Why would you fire at all!?" Ukraine pushed him away, "Why do you hurt people!? You didn't used to! Just now, looking at you, you almost look like I remember you! Why do you hurt them? Why do you hurt the others? You locked up Bela and you won't tell me why! You nearly beat Lithuania to death again! You even hit Latvia… and you've never hit me! Not once! Why are you doing this? What's happened to you!? You've become a monster and…" Ukraine hugged him tightly, sobbing on his shoulder.

Russia stood stunned for a moment, not hugging back. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around his big sister, resting his cheek against her hair, "You think I'm a monster…?" he whispered, his voice fragile.

She looked up at him, brushing his hear back from his pained eyes, "Nyet," she shook her head with a sigh, "Not really… but… what you're doing to them… why?"

"I'm just trying to help them… please Katya… please try to understand. They need to learn to be stronger. They need to learn their places here. I am in charge. I am the one who has to protect them. Without me they would have died after the war, it's my responsibility to keep them safe, even from themselves and each other. I know my teaching may seem harsh to some, but it's not. I don't want to do to them what General Winter used to do to me… us-"

"It was never as bad for us. We were the girls… but you…" Ukraine broke in, looking up into her brother's face again. Her heart ached to look at him. He barely looked like himself anymore. His eyes were different. So similar, so close to who he was before the revolution…but different, still different. She knew she would ever see his eyes without pain again. Hers filled up with tears at the thought. He brushed them away from her cheek gently as they fell.

"Katyensh'ka…" He whispered kindly, pulling her into a tighter hug, being careful not to accidentally hurt her. He sometimes forgot how strong he was.

"Vanya, please…" she looked up at him again, "Stop hurting them… please…"

Russia sighed, shaking his head, "I can't. Pain is a good teacher. They learn quickly that way, you know that… 'Pain teaches what words cannot: obedience'." Russia looked back at her.

Ukraine looked down, "Did General Winter say that to you…?"

"He never did to you?" Russia looked surprised.

Ukraine shook her head, "Never. He almost never hit me, or Natya…"

Russia smiled gently, "I'm glad he didn't… but he is right. Pain is a good teacher…"

"And what about the one inflicting the pain?" Ukraine looked up at him again, hurt, angry, tears streaming down her cheeks as she didn't try to keep them back, "You're going to destroy yourself… do you want to be like General Winter? Do you really want that? Truly?" She brushed the tears away from her face, wrapping her arms around her brother again, keeping her eyes fixed on his face.

Russia sighed, looking away, closing his eyes, "I don't want to be like him… but I have to be. He leads with a strong arm. Maybe too strong. But my bosses like him. I have to listen to both of them. It's up to me to keep the other nations under control, and so I will, even if it means I have to hurt them." Russia looked into her eyes, "Please try to understand…"

"And what about you!? What about your heart? Your… soul?" She pressed her fingers into his arms, worried, trying to keep his attention.

Russia looked away again, sighing deeply, he pulled her hands away from his arms, walking back towards his desk, "General Winter took care of those a long time ago… it doesn't bother me anymore." He didn't know if he was lying, not that it mattered.

Ukraine walked up to him again, laying her hand on his chest, right over where she knew the long deep cut from General Winter's knife had left her brother scarred, "Does it still hurt?"

Russia sighed, nodding, "Sometimes, yes," he wasn't sure why he told the truth. Now she would only worry more.

"I'm sorry… I wish I could fix it," Ukraine covered her face with her hands, sobbing.

Russia wrapped her in a hug again, letting her lean against his shoulder, "I've got you. Always. I promise…" He kissed her hair gently, lovingly, "And I'm still your favorite little brother, right?"

Ukraine looked up, laughing a little, brushing away her tears, "You're my only little brother," she smiled faintly.

"So I'm your favorite?" Russia smiled.

Ukraine nodded, "Yeah. My favorite."

Russia smiled, "Khorosho!" he let go of her and went to sit back down at his desk again.

"Oh!" Ukraine took a few quick steps forward towards her brother, "Your scarf has blood on it, let me-" She reached for it.

Ukraine froze as her brother's hand caught her wrist tightly enough to make her squeak with pain. She gasped as he turned, raising his hand to strike her before stopping himself. She saw his eyes flash with anger, then confusion, then horror at his own actions.

"Katya, I…" He let go of her wrist instantly, taking it gently. He'd gripped tight enough that it would most likely leave a bruise in the shape of his hand around her wrist, "I'm so sorry…"

Ukraine looked up at him, anger and pain in her face, "What's happened to you…?" She pulled her wrist away from him, "I'm sorry…" She turned, walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Russia's tone changed to one of severity. One he rarely used with Ukraine.

"I'm going to go let Bela out of her prison cell downstairs!" Ukraine turned to Russia again, angry.

"No you're not," Russia took a step forward, "Bela isn't stable. You can't let her out. I have to deal with her first."

"'Deal with her'? How? Are you going to teach her like you teach Lithuania? IS she coming back with bruises on her face?" She pressed herself against the door, looking at her brother, trying to be brave.

Russia didn't step forward. He'd never seen his sister's eyes hold fear when she looked at him before, "Are you… are you afraid of me…?" he whispered, his voice almost catching.

Ukraine didn't answer, just kept her eyes fixed on his for a moment. "I have to go. I won't let Bela out… but I'm going to bring her food and water…" her lip trembled. She bit it to hide the tears.

Russia nodded, "That's acceptable. Please… please, you don't have to be afraid of me hurting her. I won't hit her. I promise. I'm just… I need to teach her a few things…"

"With your pipe?" Ukraine trembled, surprised at her own bravery.

Russia sighed, shaking his head, "Nyet. Nyet, I won't hurt her. I just need to talk to her, that's all."

Ukraine looked at him steadily, forcing herself to keep her eyes fixed on his, "Promise me you won't hurt her."

"I won't-"

"Say you promise!"

Russia sighed, looking into her face. Did she doubt him so much? "I promise I won't hurt her." He smiled sadly, frowning. Her reactions upset him. Why was she afraid of him? He wouldn't hurt her. He would never hurt her.

"Y-Your scarf…" Ukraine said timidly, looking down.

Russia sighed, unwrapping it. He was wearing the bandages still. He wouldn't give up his secret to her. She wasn't strong enough. She wouldn't understand… He handed his scarf to her, pushing her hair behind her ear, planting a brotherly kiss on her head, "Spasiba," he whispered, smiling down at her as she looked up. "Now, you should get Bela that food and water," he nodded.

Ukraine smiled, nodding back. She turned to the hamper and grabbed it, carrying it out of the room.

Russia turned, looking back at his desk. So much work. So many things left to do. He sat back down in the old, creaky chair he refused to get rid of and pulled out another bottle of vodka.

* * *

A/N: Russia in one of the few sane moments he has... a few of you have been asking me for more Ukraine... so here you go. I'm not confident writing her at all. I'm an oldest sister, so I tried to pull from that some. She's a 'voice-of-reason' type I think, which is why she hasn't been in the story much. She's trying so hard to help her baby brother... poor dear. She's in way over her head. And he probably would have slapped her there if she'd actually managed to grab his scarf... he's a liiiiiiiiitle protective of it. (and we all know why...but even more on that later). Hopefully this is satisfying for all of you. Gil is going to show up again soon. He's been dealing with battles in his own mind... *sigh* poor Gil... you know what? Just poor EVERYONE IN THIS HOUSE... *hugs them all* Anyway, I thought it was important to get another glimpse into Russia's mind... especially when he's sane...

Reviews are deeply appreciated as always! I love reading them! And replying to you guys! And talking about history and politics, and all that good stuff! :D :D :D Reviewers are given cookies and lemonaide and deliscious deliscious tea! XD ;)

Songspiration for this chapter: Behind Blue Eyes (the Janet Devlin Cover, it's the best version of the song IMHO...) I listened to it while writing this whole chapter.


	46. Chapter 46: Heart

Chapter 46

"Bela," Ukraine whispered as she opened the door of the cell. She stopped, sighing deeply as she looked down at her sister.

Long chains held Belarus's small pale wrists to the wall. Her grey dress was dirty and ripped at the hem, her tights covered in holes and runs. Her hair was a mess, the black ribbon she always wore loose, half falling out of the straight blonde locks. Her wrists bled as the chains dug into them.

Ukraine looked into her sister's face as the haunting dark blue eyes met hers. Her sister's lips bled, and her cheek was bruised. She looked down, angry.

"You… you brought me food?" Belarus asked, still staring at her. Her voice was dry.

Ukraine nodded, "Of course!" she brought the tray closer, sitting in front of Belarus, laying it across her lap.

Belarus looked down at the food and water, licking her dry with an equally dry tongue.

Ukraine set the tray on Belarus's lap.

Belarus arms were heavy from the chains, but they were long enough to leave her room to move if she was careful. She didn't have to be fed. She was glad of that, not willing to give up what little pride she had left.

"Bela…" Ukraine whispered as she watched her sister eat like it had been months instead of days, "What happened to your face…?"

"He kicked me down here," she snarled, not looking up from her food, her mouth so full Ukraine barely understood her words.

"Why are you even here? What did you do? Why is he-"

"He found out about… about Toris and I…" Belarus sighed.

"I didn't tell him! I promise!" Ukraine shook her head, looking into her sister's face, worried.

"I know, I know," Belarus smiled at her faintly, reassuringly. "I know you didn't, he found out. It wasn't your fault…"

"Bela… he… Toris he…"

"I know. I heard him," Belarus sighed. She hated it. All of it. "Russia didn't hurt him badly. He'll be ok."

"How do you know."

"The…" Belarus looked away, "He sounds different when he's really in pain. Or at least… when the pain actually bothers him…"

"What kind of conversation are we even having right now?" Ukraine shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes again.

"A normal one," Belarus looked up at her, "A normal one for us. Because this is what we live with. Because our brother is a psychopathic freak who likes hurting-"

"He doesn't like it," Ukraine shook her head again, "He doesn't!"

"Did he tell you that?" Belarus continued eating, scarfing down the cold soup.

Ukraine nodded, bit her lip.

"And you actually believed him?"

Ukraine said nothing for a moment, "I don't know… I… he's not General Winter…"

Belarus shivered, "Nyet. At least he's not father…"

Ukraine nodded again, "Nyet…" she watched her sister silently for a moment. She didn't have anything to say. There wasn't anything to say. Neither of them spoke for a while, neither of them looking at each other.

"Bela…" Ukraine broke the silence, wrapping her arms around herself, "We're going to be ok, right? We're the only two he hasn't… he's never hit you, has he?" She was afraid to ask.

Belarus nodded, "He has. But I hit back…"

Ukraine didn't reply. "Do you… do you think we're going to be ok?"

Belarus looked up at her sister, her eyes bloodshot and tired, worn and haunting, "Some of us are never going to be ok, Katya… but if you're asking if we'll survive, yes. Yes, I think we'll survive… eventually…."

Ukraine nodded, sighing deeply, "Do you need anything else? I wish I could let you go…"

"Ivan said he wanted to 'talk to' me…"

"He promised me he wouldn't hurt you. I made him promise…" Ukraine put her hand on Belarus's knee kindly.

Belarus smiled at her gratefully, "Thank you. I just hope he keeps it."

"Me too… just… try not to provoke him? Please, please don't make him angry. He's ok right now, and if he's ok everyone is safe."

Belarus understood. She nodded to her sister, "Ok. Ok, I won't provoke him," she smiled, "If I can help it," she added, smirking to see the shock on her sister's face, "I'm kidding."

"Well, it's not funny!"

"No, it was funny, you're just not very good at jokes, you never were…" Belarus shook her head with a slight laugh.

"Oh, I can appreciate humor, but not the kind that jokes about our brother being… what did you call him?"

"A psychopathic freak?" Belarus smirked, usually she was the one earning that title. She took pride in it. It meant she could scare people away, and as long as they stayed away, they couldn't hurt her. She finished the food and water, and lifted the tray, reaching it as far as she could towards her sister.

Ukraine took the tray back, biting her lip, "Do you need anything else?" she glanced at her bleeding wrists.

"Nyet. I'm fine. I'll be fine. I promise."

Ukraine stood, carrying the tray with her, "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure," Belarus smiled sadly.

Ukraine nodded again, turning towards the door. She glanced back at Belarus as she walked out, locking the door behind her.

…

"G-G-Gil…" Latvia froze, his eyes wide with horror.

Gil sat on the edge of his bed, both feet on the ground. He was looking forward, his eyes focused on nothing. Blood dripped from the giant slice down his chest.

Latvia brought his hands to his mouth, shaking, his eyes drifting from Gil's chest to his arms, also covered in blood. Gil held a heart in his left hand. His own heart. Latvia rushed forward, putting his hands on Gil's face.

"G-Gil? Please? Please look at me!" Latvia's voice trembled.

Gil didn't respond.

"No. No, you c-can't can't can't do this!" Latvia picked up Gil's heart, tears streaming down his face as he saw the white-haired country wince in pain. He looked at the wound in Gil's chest, then up to his face. "I'm sorry if this hurts… I'm really, really s-s-sorry…" Latvia pressed Gil's heart back into his chest, sobbing as the taller country gasped, closing his eyes tightly, moving for the first time, bringing his hands to his chest, crying out in pain.

Latvia pulled his hand away, shaking, taking a step back. He tripped, falling to the ground. He looked up at Gil, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in his arms.

"L-Latvia…?" Gil blinked hard, still clutching his chest. He looked down. So. Much. Blood. He turned to Latvia again, seeing him curled up on the floor sobbing. "Latvia!" Gil almost jumped off the bed, kneeling beside Latvia, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, pulling it back suddenly, afraid of getting more blood on Latvia's jacket.

Latvia looked up at Gil, shaking, "Gil… what happened? What did… you didn't…"

Gil looked down at the wounds and his hands, "I… I don't remember anything. I… I don't think I… no. No, I'm sure I didn't. I wouldn't…"

Latvia bit his lip, "General Winter?"

Gil nodded slowly, trying to remember.

"Da. It was me," The deep, icy voice sliced in through the open doorway. The giant man walked in, his long black coat hitting his legs as he walked, his boots stomping into the room.

Latvia returned his face to his arms, shaking more.

Gil turned around slowly, to look at the General. He stood, facing him, "Did you…" He gasped, opening his mouth to scream as General Winter grabbed his heart with one hand, and his throat with the other, lifting him off the ground.

"You're so weak, GDR," General Winter rolled his eyes, almost laughing, smiling as he saw the terror in Prussia's red eyes, "I thought maybe that would make you stronger," he nodded towards the bed where he'd cut out Gil's heart, "Just like my Russia. I had to do that to him so many times." General Winter shook his head again, smiling, "He used to cry so much… you didn't cry. I was a little impressed by that, GDR. You're not as weak as he was…" His grip around Gil's neck tightened, and his nails dug into Gil's heart until he drew a choked cry of pain from him. "Or maybe you are…"

"St-Stop it!" Latvia screamed, standing suddenly and running up to General Winter. He pounded his fists against the man's back, squeaking in pain as the giant kicked him back like he was a dog at his heels. He tried again, getting up instantly. He was angry, "STOP!" He screamed, grabbing General Winter's coat.

General Winter kicked him back again, turning to look at him, "I'll deal with you later," he snarled, taking a step back to rest his boot on Latvia's chest.

Latvia pressed his hands into the leather, struggling to breathe. He looked up at General Winter, terrified. He saw fear flash in Gil's eyes and pity.

Gil turned back to look into General Winter's slate grey eyes. The bloodlust they held horrified him. He struggled, screaming again as General Winter closed his hand tighter around his heart. He closed his eyes, struggling to breathe from both pain, and the iron grasp on his throat. He felt lightheaded. He struggled, glaring back at the giant, trying to hold onto consciousness, trying to fight back, kicking for General Winter, too weak to injure him. He tried to ignore the laughter. It made him angry. He closed his eyes, reality slipping away.

"General Winter. Stop." A commanding voice came from the doorway. It was Russia.

General Winter loosened his grip on Gil's neck, but not his heart.

Gil gasped for breath, opening his eyes, turning towards the door. Russia was defending him?

"I said: Stop," Russia stepped into the room, pipe in hand. He glared at General Winter, his eyes flashing with hatred. "Let go of my property."

General Winter laughed, dropping Gil to the ground and turning to Russia, "Finally strong enough to stand up to me? I can't believe it's taken you this long… but you always were weak." He swung the back of his hand at Russia's face.

Russia grabbed General Winter's wrist, looking up into the giant's face, "Nyet. Not weak. Just not a monster like you!"

General Winter laughed, stepping forward, releasing Latvia with a hard stomp, cracking the little country's ribs.

Latvia cried out, rolling to his side, gasping in pain.

Russia glanced at the blonde country quickly, then back up at General Winter, the look costing him the warning of the incoming blow to his face. He staggered back, raising his pipe. He swung hard at General Winter, struggling as the man caught the pipe, laughing still. He kicked him back, wrenching his pipe free from his grasp. "Get. Out."

"Winter isn't over yet…"

"Yes, it is. Spring is on its way. You have to leave!"

General Winter charged at Russia again, falling to the ground as Russia dodged the blow, slamming the pipe into his back.

Russia stepped down onto General Winter's back, "I said, 'get out'."

General Winter turned, pushing Russia off of him, throwing the country down onto the ground, kneeling beside him, pressing his chest into the floor with his hand as Russia struggled, "Congratulations. You survive this winter. Next year, maybe I'll finally kill you."

Russia looked up at him, his eyes filled with hatred.

General Winter smiled, "I like it when you hate me. It makes me feel important," he smirked, pressing hard on Russia's chest, breaking his ribs. He smiled again, grabbing for the scarf around Russia's neck.

Russia grabbed his arm, kicking him away, pushing him back, standing, facing him, "Get. Out!"

"You're not the one who gives the orders."

"Oh yes, I am," Russia snapped, "And I have help. Bela! Katya!"

Belarus and Ukraine stepped into the room. Ukraine held a gun, raising it to General Winter's face. Belarus flipped her favorite knife in one hand, holding a thrower in her other. She grinned, glancing up at her brother.

Russia smiled, nodding to her.

Belarus flicked her wrist, sending the throwing knife into General Winter's chest.

General Winter pulled the knife out without even a flinch. He glared at Belarus, throwing the knife back at her.

She dodged it, glaring at him still.

"This is my house. Get out!" Russia snarled, raising his pipe again, "Winter. Is. Over."

General Winter gasped suddenly, doubling over in pain. He looked up at Russia, standing straight, "Until next year, little snowflake."

Russia set his jaw, using his pipe to motion towards the door.

General Winter left, fading away almost before he got out of the door.

Russia collapsed, exhausted. Ukraine rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

…

Belarus touched Lithuania's face with a smile.

He smiled back, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"I can't believe that worked…" Belarus smiled, "I didn't think he'd actually let me stay with you if I helped him get rid of father…"

"It's only one night…"

"I'm not complaining! He's going to leave us alone!"

Lithuania smiled, nodding, petting her cheek with the back of his fingers, "I'm not complaining either…"

"Tomorrow everything goes back to normal… tomorrow he can… tomorrow he can hurt you again if he wants to…"

Lithuania sighed, shaking his head, "But not tonight… Maybe we can keep doing this? Trading him for time together? Trading him to leave people alone? To leave the others alone?"

"And you. And to leave you alone."

Lithuania shrugged.

"Torshka!" Belarus sighed, frustrated.

Lithuania sighed, nodding, "All right. All right, me too."

"It's getting better. It's going to get better…"

Lithuania nodded, "I hope so."

Belarus let her fingers his wrists gently, "Me too."

…

Gil woke to the feeling of someone petting his hair. He opened his eyes slowly, the dim glow from the single lamp on his nightstand the only light in the room. He looked up to see Russia sitting beside the bed.

Russia sighed in relief, "Good, you're awake," he smiled.

Gil frowned, trying to take in his surroundings. He wasn't covered in blood anymore, and he could feel the tape on the bandage pulling as it held the gauze to his chest. He winced. It still hurt, "Is Latvia ok?"

Russia nodded,"Da. He will be fine."

"Thank you… for saving me…" Gil looked away. It stung his pride. He didn't know he had any left to sting, but it stung.

Russia smiled, "Of course. I couldn't let him kill you. He wanted to kill you."

Gil looked away, "Is that… is that even possible?"

"I don't know…" Russia looked down, shaking his head, "But I'm not taking any chances. I take care of what is mine."

Gil nodded, "I know…" he had questions. A lot of questions. He didn't ask them.

"Now that I know you're all right…" Russia stood up, taking his coat from its place draped around the chair. He smiled at Gil again, "Heal quickly. I would still like you to go to that celebration in Berlin."

Gil sighed, nodding. He didn't want to go. It was too painful. But he would have to go. He didn't have a choice. He was still owned, possessed. He hated it.

…

Russia let his coat and pipe fall to the floor as he entered his room. He locked the door behind him and walked straight to the bed, not bothering to take off his boots, barely managing to find the strength to take off his scarf, exposing the bandages underneath. He nearly collapsed into it, closing his eyes and falling asleep immediately. He was exhausted, but Winter was over… for one more year Winter was over.

* * *

A/N: A different side of Russia again, still violent, but towards the right person this time! Pieces are starting to be put back together... but are they? We shall see. Russia hasn't snapped in a while now... he's been rather kind lately. We'll see how long that lasts.

This may be the last chapter that includes any LietBela. As much as I love it, my intention is to keep this non-pairing for the most part. It's now basically served its narrative purpose. I hope those of you who don't ship it weren't too annoyed... :/

Filming wrapped on Friday. It was an awesome day, and I'm going to miss everyone so much. SO. MUCH. So for a while (until another job comes up) I'm going to try and upload daily again! Because I love you all (and this story!)

Also, my mom is now reading lol. Hi, mom. ;) (if she makes it this far... and doesn't stop reading because it's too emotional/sad/intense... we shall see lol)

As always, reviews are deeply, deeply appreciated! Also... 200 REVIEWS OHMYGOSH! THANK YOU SO MUCH! Kattie, you were the 200th comment, so EXTRA cookies/biscuits and tea and all the good things for you. Whatever your favorite things are, you've got it! I'm honored by your review as well, especially to hear that my story is one of the few fanfics you still read. I approve of reading the classics though. The best indeed! (I'm partial to French literature myself...) :D :D :D Thank you all for all the amazing reviews! I know I always say it means SO much, but it really does! *hugs to all*


	47. Chapter 47: Stronger

Chapter 47

Gil stepped towards the simple pine-wood door, painted white like the rest of the doors along the hallway. He reached up to knock, pausing for a moment. He sighed. It was his fault again. If he hadn't been so weak, none of this would have happened. General Winter would have left him alone and none of it would have happened. He knocked on the door, reaching for the knob. He knocked again, hearing a faint 'enter' come from inside. He opened the door, closing it behind him without turning to look at the bed, looking down at the sliver of light from the hall as it disappeared. The room was lit only by the single lamp on the table beside the bed. Gil sighed, turning around slowly.

Latvia laid on his bed, bandages wrapped around his body. He smiled as he saw Gil walk into the room.

Gil sighed in relief, glad to see Latvia wasn't angry with him. He walked to the bed and sat in the chair already beside it. He smiled at the boy, "Are you… ok?"

Latvia nodded, smiling back, wincing a little as he turned to look at Gil.

Gil bit his lip, worried. His eyes drifted from the boy's face to his shoulder, closing his eyes with another sigh. The gash on his shoulder from years ago had scarred. He hadn't seen Latvia without his jacket since then, and he'd hoped the wound had healed fully, but he wasn't surprised it hadn't. He looked at the bandages again, "I'm so sorry…" he whispered.

"For what?" Latvia shook his head, "for for for for General Winter nearly k-killing you? B-because that's silly!"

Gil sighed again, looking away.

"I-I-I'm healing fast. Don't worry about me," Latvia smiled, looking up at Gil with another wince. He inhaled sharply, letting out a small squeak of pain.

Gil closed his eyes, looking back up at Latvia.

Latvia smiled at him again, blinking hard and slowly, exhausted.

"You should sleep," Gil nodded, standing.

Latvia didn't let go of his hand, "Stay until I'm asleep?"

Gil smiled again, nodding, sitting back down.

Latvia closed his eyes, holding Gil's hand tightly.

"Latvia…?" Gil whispered.

"Hm?"

"Why do you want me to stay? I'm no better than Russia… a monster, just like he is… if you knew the kinds of things I've done-"

"We we we we we're all monsters, Gil," Latvia looked up at him, "Russia's right about that. We've all done t-terrible things… I'm not not not a-afraid of you. I…" he paused, taking a deep breath, "I don't like being a-a-a-alone. That that that's w-what I'm afraid of. Being alone. Please… s-s-st-st-s…" he stopped, frustrated, trying to talk, trying to breathe against his broken ribs, "Stay until I'm a-a-a-asleep?"

Gil nodded, smiling gently. He sighed as Latvia closed his eyes again. The blond country looked even younger when he was sleeping. Gil reached up and pushed the boy's hair away from his face, smiling softly as Latvia relaxed. His own chest burned with pain, but he didn't care. He looked at the small country, petting his hair, sighing deeply. He looked so much like Ludwig…

 _Prussia pet his little brother's cheek with his left hand, pressing a cold cloth into his forehead with his right, wiping away the sweat. "Can you hear me, Luddy?" He asked, biting his lip as the boy didn't respond. He looked up at the door as Bavaria walked in, holding another tray of clothes and some water for the child to drink. Prussia stood, walking up to her as she set the tray on the chest at the foot of the bed. He wrapped his arms around her as she grabbed him, sobbing on his shoulder._

 _"_ _Sh… sh… he'll be all right…" Prussia glanced back at the bed. He didn't know if he believed that. Luddy was dying._

 _Bavaria looked up at him, "But he's not… He's not getting better, don't lie…"_

 _Prussia sighed, shaking his head, "I don't know what to do…"_

 _"_ _He's not strong enough… he shouldn't be here. He represents all of us united but we're not… We're not united, half of us barely speak to each other…" She shook her head, looking back at her little brother, "Prussia he's dying…"_

 _Prussia set his jaw, "I know. We'll figure something out, something! We'll save him, I know we will."_

 _"_ _Prussia I've already called a meeting for all of us… we…" she looked back at Luddy, "All of us have already talked about a solution…"_

 _"_ _I wasn't there when you discussed this," he said almost sternly. They were going behind his back now? He was supposed to be the leader._

 _"_ _No, you weren't… because it involves you…"_

 _"_ _And how exactly does it involve me?"_

 _"_ _Come to the meeting tonight at 6:00…"_

 _"_ _That's in an hour!"_

 _"_ _I know. I'll take care of Luddy right now, you go get ready for the meeting." She nodded, sitting in the chair beside Luddy's bed, petting his face with the cloth she took from Prussia._

 _…_

 _"_ _Nein! Nein I won't let this happen! You can't do this!" Prussia slammed his fist on the table._

 _"_ _IT's not your decision to make, Prussia!" Württemberg shook his head, "Tensions are growing, and he has to be strong enough to survive. If he dies, we all fall apart it has to be this way!"_

 _"_ _Nein! I said I won't allow it!" Prussia shook his head, standing, slamming his hand into the table again, "You. Can't. Do. This."_

 _"_ _We've already discussed it with the government, and everyone but you agrees this is the best solution!" Saxony stood, pleading with Prussia._

 _"_ _Well, I sure as hell didn't agree!" Prussia snapped._

 _"_ _We knew you'd object," Hesse sighed, looking up at him, shaking her head, "So we made the decision without you."_

 _"_ _We're not asking for your permission," Baden said, his eyes determined, "We're telling you what we're going to do."_

 _Prussia looked around the conference room at all of his siblings, "Bitte…" he whispered, "Please don't do this…"_

 _There was a long silence._

 _"_ _What other choice do we have?" Bavaria looked up at him with tears in her eyes._

 _"_ _There has to be-"_

 _"_ _There isn't," Saxony cut him off, "I'm sorry…"_

 _Prussia sighed, closing his eyes, "Then let me go with you…"_

 _"_ _Nein, brüderchen… nein, you have to stay here. He'll need you," Bavaria smiled gently._

 _"_ _I don't think I can do this on my own…"_

 _"_ _You've already been the main one raising him. You'll do fine," Baden said kindly._

 _"_ _Please…"_

 _…_

 _Prussia ran into Luddy's room after his siblings, "Nein! Don't do this! Please! Please, Bitte!"_

 _Oldenburg grabbed his arms, holding him back as he struggled to get to the others, who already stood around the bed._

 _"_ _Please, please no…" Prussia fell to his knees. He knew there wasn't any other way, but he couldn't watch this. He couldn't let them do this._

 _"_ _Prussia, please… please don't make this harder for us…" Bavaria turned to him, kneeling beside him as Oldenburg released him to take his place with the others._

 _"_ _Liesel please…" he took her hand, "Please…"_

 _Bavaria sighed, touching her brother's cheek gently, tears slipping down her cheeks._

 _"_ _Please, if you have to, let me go with you…"_

 _She shook her head, "You're the oldest, the strongest… if anyone can protect Luddy it's you… he needs you. Promise…" her voice broke, "Promise me you'll always take care of him?"_

 _Prussia nodded, trying to hold the tears back._

 _"_ _Now please don't try and stop us anymore… please, can you promise me that?"_

 _He looked into her eyes, closing his own and nodding._

 _Bavaria kissed his cheek, "Danke, brüderchen, Danke…" She stood, joining the others beside the bed, laying her hand on Luddy's shoulder and taking Hesse's hand. She closed her eyes, looking back at Prussia for a moment, then back at Ludwig, and finally up at Württemberg._

 _Württemberg nodded, looking down at Ludwig and laying his hand on the boy's chest. He set his jaw, hiding the pain as he looked up to the sky, closing his eyes._

 _Prussia watched, still kneeling on the ground. He and Bavaria managed one more glance at each other before she was too faded to see her eyes. Prussia ran to the bed and stopped. The room was completely silent. They were gone. All of them were gone. He looked back at Luddy, his hands shaking. He didn't know how to process it, any of it. He lifted the small boy in his arms, leaning against one of the walls, sliding to the ground, cradling his baby brother, pressing his cheek and lips into the boy's soft blonde hair, tears streaming down his face. He looked up to heaven, deep heaving sobs shaking in his chest, waking the sleeping child._

 _"_ _Bruder?" Luddy asked weakly, moving his head to look up at Prussia. He frowned, "You're crying…" he reached up his tiny, boyish hand, and wiped the tears away._

 _Prussia nodded, "Ja…"_

 _"_ _I thought you never cried…" Luddy whispered, confusion on his face._

 _"_ _Sometimes…" Prussia tried to swallow back enough tears to speak, "Sometimes even soldiers cry…"_

 _Luddy brushed the tears away again, wrapping his little arms around his brother's neck, hugging him tightly._

 _Prussia closed his fists around his brother's shirt, holding him tightly, leaning his head against the boy's shoulder, his whole body shaking with sobs, "I'm never letting go, okay...?"_

 _"_ _Why are you crying?" Luddy asked, kissing his brother's hair._

 _"_ _Your other siblings…" Prussia could barely speak._

 _"_ _What siblings?" Luddy looked at him, confused._

 _Prussia looked at him, stunned. The ache in his chest was almost unbearable. He turned away, bringing one of his hands to his face, holding Luddy tightly with the other. He leaned into his hand, sobbing until his throat burned and he had no more tears. He looked up again, into his baby brother's giant blue eyes, which stared at him with love and worry._

 _"_ _What happened, Bruder…?" Luddy looked away, trembling._

 _"_ _Your… your other…" Prussia big his lip, trying to hold back the choke in his dry throat, "Your brothers and sisters… they… they left…"_

 _"_ _But they're coming back?" Luddy asked without a shred of recognition in his voice._

 _Prussia shook his head, "Do you… do you remember them at all?"_

 _Luddy shook his head back, "Nein…" he bit his lip, "Can you… can you tell me about them…?" He sat back down on his brother's legs, leaning against his chest._

 _Prussia nodded, "Yeah… they um… all of them… they left me to keep you safe… they left so you…" He let his head rest on the wall, then looked back at Luddy, "They left so you can be stronger…"_

 _Luddy nodded, understanding, "That was brave…"_

 _Prussia nodded again, tears streaming down his cheeks, "Yeah…"_

 _"_ _Tell me all about them?" Luddy cuddled on his brother's chest, letting a tear slip down his own cheek. He didn't like seeing his big brother cry._

 _"_ _Okay…" Prussia took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. Luddy had to know… he had to know everything._

 _…_

 _Prussia knocked on his little brother's door exactly one week later, opening it slowly. He froze, staring._

 _Ludwig was sitting up in the bed, the blanket wrapped around his waist. He wasn't wearing a shirt and was looking down at his arms and hands. He looked up at Prussia, shaking, terrified._

 _Prussia still stared, "I…" he tried to collect his thoughts, "I think you're going to need bigger clothes…"_

 _Germany nodded, turning bright red. He pulled the covers up around his shoulders, looking at Prussia, his bright blue eyes begging for help._

 _"_ _Did it hurt?" Prussia asked, more curious than concerned._

 _Germany shook his head, "Nein, I just woke up and-" he covered his mouth, looking up at Prussia again, scared._

 _Prussia bit his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing, "Well that's… different…" He smirked._

 _Germany nodded, lowering his hand from his mouth, "I… I sound… stronger… that was the point… wasn't it?" He let the blankets fall from his shoulders again, looking down at his arms and chest. He wasn't displeased, "I look like I could actually take you on in a fight now," he smiled, still getting used to his much-deeper voice._

 _Prussia shook his head with a laugh, "We'll see about that! But first… we really do need to get you some new clothes…"_

 _Germany nodded, holding up the scraps of fabric that were formerly his nightshirt._

 _Prussia laughed, shaking his head, "And I thought America grew up fast…" he rolled his eyes, "I don't think any of my clothes will fit you… I'll see what I can find… maybe I'll see if one of the others could help?" He couldn't think of anyone else whose clothes might fit Germany except Russia, and he was NOT talking to Russia. He glanced back at his brother, who had stood, wrapping the blanket around his waist, and walked into the bathroom. He heard him swear loudly and ran in to see what was wrong, shocked to hear his brother's words._

 _"_ _What is it?" Prussia asked, worried._

 _"_ _I look like Sweden!" Germany said, annoyed, looking back at his brother, "I look exactly like Sweden…"_

 _Prussia laughed, "There are worse things in the world. At least your eyes are a normal color, and your skin isn't the same color as your sheets."_

 _Germany shrugged._

 _Prussia smirked, "Here, I have an idea…" he grabbed Germany's comb from the cupboard above the sink and turned on the water, wetting the comb. "Come here," he pulled on his brother's shoulders to turn him. Prussia reached up, suddenly realizing that Germany was taller than he was, "Hey… wait a second…" he crossed his arms over his chest, "That isn't fair…"_

 _"_ _What isn't?" Germany smirked, resting his elbow on Prussia's shoulder._

 _Prussia glared at him, "Really? Really!?" he rolled his eyes._

 _Germany laughed and took his arm off of his brother's shoulder, "I'm going to have fun with this! Wait, can I drink beer now!?"_

 _Prussia shrugged, "I… guess?"_

 _Germany grinned, "Best. Day. Ever."_

 _"_ _You seem awfully excited about this…"_

 _Germany froze, "I um… I'm just… I'm GUESSING it tastes really good, you certainly seem to like it."_

 _Prussia stared at him, shaking his head, "Uh huh, sure. So you've never tried it before?"_

 _Germany shook his head, "Nope. Never."_

 _"_ _Suuuuure you haven't," Prussia ignored it and got the comb wet again, bringing Germany's bangs back away from his face. It wouldn't stay long with only water, but it was an idea, "Hey, I kinda like that on you Brüderchen… it suits you."_

 _Germany grinned, "You think so? I like it too…"_

 _"_ _Yeah," Prussia handed him the comb, "I'll get you some hair gel too."_

 _Germany smiled, nodding, "That would be awesome, like you, 'big' brother," he smirked again._

 _"_ _Watch it…" Prussia pretended to be mad, punching Germany's shoulder playfully. "I should go get you those clothes…"_

 _Germany nodded, "Danke!"_

 _Prussia walked out of the room, pausing for a moment after closing the door. What just happened?_

 _…_

Prussia sat up suddenly, feeling a hand on his head, petting his hair.

"It it it it it's just me…" Latvia pulled his hand back, shaking.

Prussia looked up, trying to process where he was. He looked around the room. He was still sitting in the chair beside Latvia's bed, and he'd fallen asleep leaned forward against the mattress, his head against his arms.

"D-did you sleep well?" Latvia asked, calming a little.

Prussia nodded, "Yeah…"

"You… you should should should g-go… before Russia comes back."

Prussia nodded, "Yeah… that'd probably be a good idea."

"J-just in case…"

Gil stood, glancing back at Latvia as he walked to the door. He smiled at the boy and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He turned to see Russia walking towards him.

* * *

A/N: More flashbacks to Prussia and (formerly!) Baby Germany! Basically this whole chapter, but the flashback especially, is a (slightly!) late birthday gift to a good friend of mine. We had a conversation not too long ago about what happened to the other German states. I know this isn't everyone's headcanon, but it's my favorite. It follows history loosely... but I couldn't figure out a better way to make it fit. Anyway, happy birthday dear friend! You know who you are! :) *hugs*

Some sadness in this one... (I cried writing it again) but then some humor. We haven't gotten a lot of humor in this story in general, and it certainly fit this chapter... (Puberty hit Germany pretty dang hard y'all...) But yeah. Then Latvia being adorable as usual... and... Russia's coming to talk to Gil? Maybe?

Reviews are deeply appreciated as always! I love them so much! 200 wow... I'm still amazed you guys... still absolutely amazed. Thank you to all of you who comment so incredibly regularly! Every chapter! Wow! Cookies and hugs and tea and scones, and everything good you guys, just everything good! :D :D :D


	48. Chapter 48: Burn

Chapter 48

GDR stopped in the hallway, standing straight and saluting Russia.

"GDR," Russia smiled, putting his hand on the smaller country's shoulder, "Just who I wanted to see. I need your help with something."

"Whatever you need, Russia," GDR nodded.

"Khorosho!" Russia clapped his arm around GDR's shoulders, walking towards the stairs.

GDR glanced back at Latvia's door, worried. Russia led him down the long grand staircase, through the hallways, past the kitchen, and down the basement stairs. GDR shivered. He wouldn't admit to being nervous, but his shaking hands tried to betray him. He forced them into his pockets quickly, hoping Russia didn't see their trembling. He stopped with Russia in front of the dark grey door.

"W-what is it you want me to do?" GDR asked, curious, worried.

"You're one of the best interrogators I've ever seen. I want you to teach me."

GDR nodded slowly, a shiver running down his spine. He didn't say anything, watching Russia turn the key in the lock of the door. He blinked hard, the sound of the lock sending a spike of pain through his chest. He shook it off as Russia motioned for him to walk inside. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, not moving from the doorway.

"Is something wrong, GDR?" Russia smiled, walking in behind him, closing the door.

GDR didn't answer, staring at the horrible picture before him. In the center of the room were two wooden chairs, and tied to them, back to back, were Lithuania and Poland. Both of them kept their heads down, both of them silent. He shook his head, looking back at Russia, "What are you asking me to do…?" he whispered, terrified.

"I want to learn from you, GDR, that's all."

"You want me to torture them?" he could barely say the words. They stung. He couldn't do this.

"Nyet… you yourself told me that torture is useless… 'enhanced interrogation' I believe you've called it?" Russia smiled his sickening, horrible smile.

"What information could you possibly have to gain from them?" GDR turned towards Russia, almost angry.

"Does it matter?" Russia smiled still.

"Yes, it matters!" GDR snapped, "If I'm going to find out anything, I need to know what I'm looking for!"

Russia smiled again, walking around to the other side of the chairs, his giant boots hitting the stone with the same familiar, threatening severity they'd all grown used to.

Poland didn't move as Russia pulled his head up by his hair. His eyes looked dead, refusing to focus on anything.

Lithuania winced, looking at Gil as Russia grabbed his hair, forcing his head back. He trembled with fear, looking away from GDR.

"From both of them, I need the names of the political leaders they've been conspiring against me with. Their behavior is unacceptable. I'm going to teach both of them, but first, I need the names," Russia explained casually.

Gil looked at them both, keeping his shaking hands in his pockets. He had to get them out of this. He didn't know how he was going to get them out of this. He walked up to them, standing in front of Poland. He couldn't do this. He glanced up at Russia and nodded, grabbing Poland's hair himself, pulling the blond country's head back harder.

Poland didn't react. He didn't flinch. He didn't move, and his eyes still wouldn't focus.

Gil shook his head, forcing himself not to sigh in relief, "It's too damaged," he hated calling Poland 'it', but hoped it would help, "No one's getting anything out of him. He's useless to you."

Russia growled, annoyed, walking up to Poland. He grabbed the country's face, turning it towards his own. He pushed Poland's face, slapping his cheek, forcing his head up, then grabbing his face again, trying to get a reaction from the country. Nothing.

Gil made himself to watch. He looked down at Poland's body, almost not believing he was still breathing. The rise and fall of his chest proving he was still alive.

Russia sighed, letting go of Poland's face, letting his head down again. "Fine," Russia snapped, pulling out his knife. He sliced the ropes around Poland's wrists and shoved the little blond country off the chair.

Gil knelt beside Poland slowly, trying to look less concerned than he really was. He brushed the soft blond hair out of Poland's face, "You need to wake up…" he whispered, "Get up!" He said louder, knowing Russia was listening. He glanced back at the giant country who watched amused, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I said," Gil sighed, standing, "Get. Up." he kept his back to Russia, closing his eyes tightly as he kicked Poland hard, hoping, praying that triggering a panic attack would shake him awake enough for him to run.

Poland turned, looking up at Gil, terrified, his whole body shaking with fear. He was too scared to even scream. He just stared up at Gil, trembling so hard Gil could hear his teeth chattering.

"Get out of here!" Gil yelled at him again.

Poland scrambled to get to his feet. He couldn't. He pushed himself back into the corner of the room, covering his head with his arms, curling his knees to his chest, shaking his head, muttering unintelligible words, mixing languages together, pleading, begging.

Gil closed his eyes. He couldn't look at Poland. He couldn't watch this.

"Felek!" Lithuania called for him, "Felek, please…" Toris turned to look at Russia, angry, "Let him go!"

"He's free to leave this room whenever he wants to," Russia laughed, amused.

Lithuania struggled at the ropes that dug into his wrists, staring at Poland.

Gil opened his eyes again, looking down at Poland. He didn't want to do this. He had to do this. He stomped forwards, forcing all the authority he could find into his steps. He grabbed Poland's hair, pulling him forward to his knees, looking down into the terrified green eyes. His heart ached, he'd never seen that much pain and terror in one face before. He dragged Poland towards the door, opening it and kicking the smaller blond country into the hallway.

"You were ordered to get out. Now stay out." Gil said coldly, trying to bring as much ice into his voice as he could, trying to sound like he did during the war.

Poland let out a short scream, covering his head, curling into a ball on the floor of the hallway.

Gil closed the door, staying in the room. He turned back to Russia, "Situation handled," he said.

Russia laughed, smiling, "Khorosho, GDR, very good!" he smirked, "Now… we still have Toris to deal with." he grabbed a fistful of the dark hair and pulled Lithuania's head back, smiling to see the anger in the weaker country's eyes.

Gil tried to think of a way out of this, a way to save Toris from what he was sure Russia wanted to be hell. He looked into Lithuania's eyes. He'd never seen that much anger from him, even hatred? He shook his head, looking up at Russia, "No."

"What?" Russia asked, confused.

"I won't help you. I won't help you do this… I can't… I can't…"

Russia sighed, shaking his head, "I thought you were on my side…" He looked up at Gil almost sadly.

Gil shook his head, "You're asking me to torture my friend… I can't do that…"

"I have," Russia's voice was cold.

Gil looked into the violet eyes, expecting to see pain. He was wrong. They held no emotion, only ice.

"I'll give you one more chance, GDR. Help me get the names I need, or Toris isn't the only one who gets a lesson today," Russia smiled.

Gil looked from Russia's face to Lithuania's. The dark-haired country closed his eyes, resigning himself to whatever happened. Gil met his eyes as he looked up again, they scared him. Surrender? He shook his head, looking up at Russia, "Nein. Nein, I won't do it."

Russia sighed, letting go of Lithuania's hair, walking up to Gil.

Gil extended his left arm to Russia with a sigh. He wouldn't fight.

Russia grabbed Gil's wrist, pulling him towards the war, somewhat disappointed that Gil didn't struggle. He chained the smaller country to the wall, his arms raised above his head, pulling the chain tight enough that Gil had to strain to keep his balance on the ground.

"I'll be back in two days if you last that long," Russia smiled, patting Gil's face hard, stepping away from him.

Dread sank into Gil's chest, "Russia…" he whispered, struggling suddenly. Two days? He couldn't last two days without-

"Oh yes, I suppose you'll be needed the drugs every day won't you…" Russia pretending to think for a moment, "I think perhaps you'll learn faster without them, da?" he smiled, laying his hand on the door handle, "Unless you've already changed your mind?"

Gil looked away from Russia, trying to think, trying to prepare himself for two days without the drugs he still desperately needed. He was used to four syringes a day, given to him by Russia. He wasn't sure he would even survive without them. He looked at Lithuania, who stared at him, worried.

"Gil…" Lithuania whispered, shaking his head, "It's okay, you can-"

"Shut up, Toris," Gil snapped, shaking his head in return. He looked back at Russia, "I'm still not f****g helping you!" he screamed, staring into Russia's face, determined.

Russia laughed.

Gil shivered, looking back at Lithuania, who turned away shaking.

"Won't this be entertaining?" Russia smiled, "I wonder what will hurt you more, Toris… would you rather Gil torture you, or will you enjoy watching him go through withdrawal? I've seen it…"

Gil closed his eyes, shaking.

"It's terrible to watch, I can't imagine having to go through it…" Russia smiled at Gil again, "What did you say it was again? Cold hands? Ghosts? Pain…? And what was the last one? Oh yes, the smell of burning human skin… and you would know what that feels like, wouldn't you GDR?"

Lithuania looked up at Gil, confused, and worried.

Gil said nothing, looking away from Russia.

Russia smiled again, "I'll leave you two to talk, while you can, GDR. As I said, I'll be back in two days. I expect you'll both be more willing to cooperate with me by then," he opened the door, pausing to look back once more before he stepped into the hall, "Oh, GDR, if you change your mind about this whole thing, I'll be listening, just call for me. I'd like to save you from this if you'll let me," he smiled kindly, walking out and closing the door behind him.

Gil winced, hearing the key turn in the lock.

There was a long silence, both of them not knowing what to say.

Gil tried to move his shoulders, trying to find a way to make the position more comfortable. After two days he was sure he wouldn't be able to move his arms at all, and he'd be lucky of he could stand. He looked back at Lithuania. He was tied with ropes, and he'd noticed they were already starting to burn his wrists.

"So…" Gil broke the silence finally, "It's a nice day outside…"

"Really?" Lithuania looked up at him, annoyed. He laughed a little, sighing deeply, turning away.

Gil smirked, "Well hey, I did get a laugh out of you."

"I was laughing at how sad that attempt at a joke was…"

"I know, but you still laughed."

Lithuania didn't reply, letting another long silence pass. He looked up at Gil again, "Are you going to be ok?"

"Oh you know, just… everything Russia said and more… it's no big deal, I'll be fine. Actually, I'll probably pass out before it gets too bad, it's a little hard to breathe with my arms above my head like this, and considering breathing's going to get difficult anyway…" he would have shrugged if he could have moved his arms.

Lithuania shook his head, "Do you always try and be funny when you're terrified?"

Prussia shrugged, "Yeah, kind of a thing… a lot of people do it you know, it's pretty common actually…" He looked away, biting his lip, refusing to show even Lithuania how scared he really was.

Another long silence passed, neither of them wanting to talk about what was coming. Finally, Lithuania spoke again.

"Gil… when Russia said you knew what… burning skin feels like…?" he closed his eyes, almost afraid of the answer.

"I figured you'd ask that eventually…" Gil looked away, trying to take a deep breath, finding it difficult. "I uh…" he shook his head, trying to collect his thoughts. He hadn't expected it to be so difficult to talk about. "The witch trials…" he sighed, "they called me 'devil child', something about red eyes being a little scary or something…" he closed them, frustrated by a choke that rose into his throat. He pushed it down, "Once they decided I was, in fact, the devil child, despite being the most devout of all of them… they uh…" he sighed again, "They tried to drown me first. No torture, no interrogation, just… right to the river. Only I didn't die… then they tortured me." his voice trembled. He tried to steady it, tried to hide it, tried to push down the memories that flooded his mind, "It was worse than anything else I've ever… and I just kept healing… and that made it worse. They asked how that was possible, saying it proof… I could quote whatever verses they wanted me to, I begged them, I drew crosses on myself with my own blood while they were torturing me to try and prove to them that I wasn't…" he wiped the tears away from his eyes on his sleeves quickly, annoyed by them.

"You don't have to…" Lithuania sighed, shaking his head.

"No. No, it's ok… I… I've never actually told anyone… ever… not even Ludwig…"

"How does Russia…?"

"I don't know," Gil shook his head, "Maybe I said something when I was going between withdrawal and being high for the several months he kept me down here, breaking me…"

"I'm glad that didn't completely work…"

Gil didn't answer, "Anyway… That's enough of that…"

"You can tell me the rest. Would it help?"

Gil wasn't sure, "If it bothers you…"

"After all he's done two me? You think anything bothers me anymore?"

Gil sighed, shaking his head, "Good point…" he looked down, continuing, "I um… after they had even more 'proof' that I was the devil child, they dragged me out in front of a crowd of thousands and thousands of people and… I wasn't the only one they burned at the stake that day… but… but it took forever for me. Hours and hours before it started to get bad… I was only a child, but my country was strong… I was so hard to kill… it… it took almost all day before…" he winced, shaking his head, trying to keep the choke back in his throat, "I wasn't dead for long… they took me back to the prison, tortured me all over again, they weren't even trying to get a confession anymore, they were so convinced that hurting me would make the devil angry, that he would release others… then they burned me again… and again… and again… they tried fifteen times…"

Lithuania closed his eyes, looking away, horrified. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure there was anything he could say.

"Then it was over… I don't know who got me out, but someone did. I hid for years, I stained my skin, my hair… tried to hide my eyes… eventually the trials ended, everything went back to normal, the scars healed… I… I grew up. It was a long time ago…"

"And the burning now, it's from…?"

Gil looked down.

Lithuania sighed deeply, understanding, even though he wished he didn't.

Gil tried not to think about it, the faces starting to flash in front of him again. He jerked his head to the side, trying to shake them away.

"Gilbert…?" Lithuania asked, concern in his voice.

"I'm fine." Gil nodded, opening his eyes again. He could feel his heartbeat getting faster, slowly but surely. He closed his eyes in pain.

"Gil, you don't have to do this…" Lithuania shook his head, "Just call Russia in here. I can take anything you can give you don't have to-"

"Stop it," Gil opened his eyes, angry, "Stop doing that. I'm not hurting you…"

"Russia's right, you think I'd rather watch you…"

"I'm sorry that both options absolutely suck, but there's nothing I can-" he winced in pain, his breath catching.

"Gil…?"

"No, Liet… I can't… I can't hurt you, I can't…"

"Gil… Gil please, don't do this…"

"Sorry. It's my choice not yours…"

"Gil…"

Gil closed his eyes tightly, turning away from Lithuania, trying to hide behind his arm. He didn't want Lithuania to see the pain in his face. He couldn't hide it completely. His breath caught again, his heart beating faster. He shivered, swallowing hard, trying to keep down a gag. He could smell the burning again, and it nearly choked him. He let a few tears fall down his cheeks, trying to hide them.

 _I can do this…_ he tried to tell himself, _don't give up… please don't give in… I can do this… I can do this…_

Lithuania looked away.

* * *

A/N: Well... we knew the happiness couldn't last forever... Ugh, Russia... why are you so cruel? You were so nice the past few chapters... *sigh* and he thinks he's teaching them... ugh his mind... Anyway, I hope you all 'like' this chapter. We get to hear a bit more about Gil's past, and so does Lithuania. These two basically need each other for sanity at this point. And while Gil certainly appeared to be cruel to Poland (and probably hurting Poland a lot...) he was saving him from something much, much worse... he did the 'right' thing... (if there is a 'right' thing in this kind of situation...) but this is going to affect Poland pretty hard for a while... being kicked by Gil again... ugh...

As always, reviews are so deeply appreciated! You guys were all ABSOLUTELY LOVELY with your comments on my last chapter. I am so incredibly honored by your words. Truly. I strive to be an excellent author even in a story that I'm writing for love instead of future monetary gains... becuase that's important too. I've learned a lot myself in writing this as well... and for those of you concerned about it ending soon... have no fear! I fully intend to continue this story through Prussia's recovery once he's back with his little brother, and the wall is long gone. :) Cookies, hugs, lemonaide, tea, scones, candy, and all things lovely for reviewers! *gives flowers* Thank you all!


	49. Chapter 49: Sacrificial

Chapter 49

The chains dug into Gil's wrists, cutting into the skin. He could feel the itch of blood trickling down his arms. He winced, not wanting to let himself hang by his wrists, but the alternative was to stand with his heels off the ground, and that was almost as painful. He couldn't hold it long. He felt sweat drip down the sides of his face. He tried to wipe the sweat off his ears on his sleeves, only pulling more at his wrists. Cold air hit the sweat at the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He tried to move his shoulders, desperate to relieve the strain on them. It didn't work. Nothing was comfortable. His stomach churned, sending a chilled ache through his whole body. He leaned his head against the wall, keeping his eyes closed. His mouth was dry and sticky, already desperate for water he knew he wasn't going to get. He shivered hard, exhaling slowly, hoping the heat from his own breath would warm him a little. His body ached with pain, begging for the drugs. He moved his shoulders again, trying to relieve the pain, taking a deep, shaking breath.

Lithuania looked up, hearing Gil's lungs beg for air, "How are you holding up?" he said softly, looking into Gil's face, almost studying it. Gil looked even paler if that was possible, and the skin around his eyes seemed darker.

Gil shook his head, swallowing hard. He wasn't sure he trusted himself to speak, "Fine," he managed to whisper through grit teeth.

Lithuania looked down, struggling at the ropes that cut into his wrists. They were raw, he knew that much. He tried to move his arm over the back of the chair, leaning to the side, the ropes binding his legs to the chair making it difficult. He had to get out of this. He looked up at Gil again, sighing, turning away. He couldn't do nothing. He couldn't just watch.

Gil shivered again, his heart beat fast. He tried to force himself to breathe normally, to breathe at all. He closed his hands around the chains, hoping to relieve some of the pressure on his wrists. It barely helped, his fingers stiff.

"Toris…" he whispered, barely choking out the word.

Lithuania looked up, into Gil's face, meeting the tired red eyes, "Yes?"

Gil looked away for a second, failing to bite back a gasp as faces flashed in front of him. He looked back at Lithuania, trying to focus on his face, trying to keep looking at him. He shivered, looking away, breathing faster in horror, trying to recollect his thoughts.

"Gil?" Lithuania asked, worried.

Gil tried to shake the image out of his mind, forcing himself to look back at Lithuania's face, praying it would return to normal again. He sighed in relief. Everything was fine. He closed his eyes again anyway, the walls starting to warp and move, "You… you're trying…" he breathed hard, his heart pounding, "If you're trying to get off the chair…you should…" he swallowed hard, almost gasping for breath, holding back a cry as pain shot through his body, stabbing into his heart.

"Gil!?" Lithuania asked again, more concerned than before. Gil was slipping. He could see him trying to hang on, but he could also see it wasn't working.

Gil took a deep breath, forcing himself to speak, "Break the chair legs…" he whispered, letting his head fall back again, holding back a cry of pain with all the willpower he had left.

Lithuania noticed it, "Gil, please, let me call for Russia… please just do what you have to, and-"

"NEIN!" Prussia snapped, inhaling sharply, whimpering in pain, turning his head to the side fast as he felt a cold hand slink it's way up his side. He tried to push the feeling away, gasping as icy fingers wrapped around his throat. He opened his eyes, trying to focus on Lithuania, trying to hold on to reality…

"Gil?" Lithuania bit his lip, worried. He forced himself to look into Gil's face, "Gil, keep your eyes on me. I'm right here. Whatever you're seeing… whatever's going on, it's not real. I'm real, and I'm right here…"

Gil threw his head back, then down, looking at the floor, barely holding back a cry that escaped through his teeth. He pulled at the chains, straining up to try and relieve his wrists.

"Prussia, look at me!" he was desperate.

Prussia blinked hard, turning to Lithuania immediately, his eyes focusing on the other country's face, "What… what did you…?"

"Prussia. That's your name…. isn't it?"

Prussia stared at him, blinking hard, forgetting how much pain he was in for a moment.

 _"_ _What's your name!?" General Winter forced his head back, gripping his hair._

 _"_ _German Democratic Republic!" GDR begged, screaming in pain as icy fingers dug into his chest. "Nein, bitte…" he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. He looked at Russia, who stood on the other side of the room, watching._

 _"_ _I don't believe you…" General Winter's voice was cold, "What. Is. Your. Name!?"_

 _"_ _German Democratic Republic, GDR, Satellite State of the Soviet Union, please… please… don't…" he screamed again._

Gil shook his head, "Nyet… that's my name anymore… please… don't call me that… please…" he screamed in pain as he felt the flames leap up at his legs, the smell of burning flesh infecting the room. He struggled more, shaking his head violently, trying to break the chains from the wall, gasping for breath.

Lithuania watched, horrified. He had to do something. He threw all of his weight to one side, sending the chair crashing to the ground. The back of it cracked, giving him enough room to get his arms over the back of it. He twisted, trying to get to the ropes on his thighs, tying him to the seat of the chair. He barely managed to grab the knot, breaking the back of the chair away from the seat with his elbow. It bled. He didn't care. He untied the knot and sat up on his knees. He glanced back up at Gil, who had calmed somewhat, still breathing hard, still struggling. He shook his head, he couldn't leave him like this. He leaned back onto the ground, reaching until his fingers caught the ropes that held his ankles. He managed to untie them. His wrists burned, the ropes cutting into them. He tried to stand, barely managing it. He paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to get his hands free. He glanced back at Gil.

"Gil, I need you to help me," he nodded, walking up to the slightly shorter country.

Gil shook his head, keeping his eyes closed, gasping in pain.

"Gil! Listen to me! Help me and I can try and help you!" Lithuania froze, a shiver running down his spine as the sound of a key turning in the lock infected the room. The door creaked open slowly. Lithuania turned to see Russia standing in the doorway, anger, and amusement on his face. He was smiling.

"Well, I didn't expect you to actually manage that, Myshka, I'm impressed," Russia stepped forwards towards Lithuania, putting a hand on his shoulder. He smiled at him.

Lithuania trembled, not daring to take his eyes off the floor, not daring to look up at Russia.

Russia grabbed his hair, pulling his head back.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, da?"

Lithuania obeyed, fixing his eyes on Russia's, "I thought you weren't coming back for two days…"

Russia shrugged, "It's been close to one… and I wanted to see how the two of you were doing. Wasn't that a sad story GDR told you about when he was a child. That must have hurt… did it, GDR?" Russia glanced back at him, smiling in satisfaction as he saw Gil squirm from the triggered flashbacks. Russia turned back to Lithuania, "How has it been for you? As horrible as I expected?"

Lithuania said nothing.

"Have you been trying to encourage him? I heard you call him by his old name… that won't do, Myshka. I can't have you doing that…"

Lithuania trembled, still looking up at Russia like he'd been ordered to. He didn't want to think about what Russia was going to do. He had to help Gil. He couldn't let this continue…

"I'll give you whatever names you want!" He sighed, shaking his head "I will, I swear… just… just let Gil out of here…"

"Stop. Being. An. Idiot!" Gil yelled, the final few seconds of the words becoming screams of agony. He recoiled from the four figures who crowded around him, saying nothing. They just stared at him, their eyes sad, in pain. He couldn't look at them, "Leave me alone…" he whispered, struggling at the chains.

Russia watched, amused. He laughed, throwing Lithuania to the ground and walking up to Gil, turning his face towards his own, "Look at me."

Gil struggled, trying to get away from the faces and cold hands. He kept his eyes closed.

"I said, look at me!" Russia slapped him hard and grabbed his face again.

Gil obeyed, shaking, his heart beating even faster, his breath so fast he could barely keep up with it. His lungs heaved for air he couldn't give them fast enough.

Russia smiled, pulling a small black leather case from his coat, opening it slowly, showing Gil the syringe and bottle inside it.

Gil struggled harder, looking up at Russia, "Bitte…. bitte Russland…" He squirmed, desperate.

Lithuania looked away. It was almost physically painful to watch Prussia beg…

Russia laughed, "You make this so easy, GDR!" he took the syringe from the case, pulling the bottle from the elastic, and replacing the empty case in his coat pocket. He held the bottle in front of Gil's face, smiling as he watched the smaller country squirm. "Would you like some?"

Gil inhaled through his teeth, trying not to cry out in pain, "Bitte…"

"What was that?"

"Please, Russia please, I can't… I can't I need it, please… please…"

"Russia, please stop!" Lithuania begged, trying to stand, wincing in pain as Russia kicked him back down.

"Stay out of this, Myshka!" Russia snarled, turning back to Gil, "What can't you do, Gil? What would you like from me?"

Gil bit his lip hard, trying to swallow his pride, "Russia please give me the drugs, I can't do this… I can't stand it, I can't… I need them… please… please…" he looked down, shaking his head, hating every word he said.

Russia smiled, "Very good, Ptitska," Russia pet his hair patronizingly, filling the syringe and slipping it into Gil's neck.

Gil sighed deeply in relief, relaxing, the pain fading as Russia gave him the entire bottle.

Russia reached up and unlocked the chains around Gil's wrists.

Gil fell to the ground instantly, his legs giving way. He couldn't lift his arms from the floor. He didn't move, exhausted. He couldn't move.

"Stand," Russia ordered.

Gil looked up at him, his eyes begging, "Russland… bitte…"

"Nyet. Nyet, you don't get to rest. Stand." Russia grabbed Gil's jacket, pulling him up, forcing him to stand, "Now, you're going to stay standing right there, until I tell you you're finished, is that understood?" he smiled.

GDR nodded, his body too tired to fight back, his mind exhausted, foggy from the drugs.

Russia smiled, "You didn't think this was over, did you?" He glanced back at Lithuania, grabbing his arm, pulling him up and dragging him towards the unbroken chair still left in the room. He tied him to it again, tighter this time, locking a set of handcuffs around both Lithuania's right wrist and the back of the chair. He turned the chair to face Gil.

"Now," Russia explained with a smile, pleased with his idea, "GDR, I gave you more drugs so Lithuania can watch you go through that all over again," he smiled, seeing Lithuania close his eyes with a sigh, "but, I can't have him trying to undo your lessons… trying to call you your old name… he's not being helpful to you… but I do need him in here…" Russia thought for a moment, then grinned, reaching for his scarf. He pulled it from his neck, revealing the black turtlenecked sweater underneath, and brought it to Lithuania's mouth.

Lithuania turned away, struggling, "No…" he shook his head, avoiding Russia.

Russia sighed, grabbing Lithuania's hair, pulling his head back. He pulled the scarf into Lithuania's mouth, tying it highly behind him.

Lithuania struggled more, trying to keep the gag from choking him. He coughed hard, leaning forwards, trying to push the fabric from his mouth. He looked up at Russia, his eyes burning with hatred.

Russia looked away for a moment, sadness flashing in his own eyes. He turned back to Lithuania, all traces of any emotion except anger, gone.

"Now," Russia walked up to the only other functional chair in the room, pulling it to the back of the room and sitting down, resting his ankle on his knee, leaning back and crossing his arms, pulling out a book, "I'll wait here, while you, Gil, decide if it's better to stand there…" he pulled his pipe from his coat and leaned it against the wall, the metal flashing in the single light bulb that illuminated the room, "Or use this on Liet. Your choice."

Lithuania looked away, refusing to look at Gil, refusing to look at Russia.

Gil stood straight, worried. He didn't know how he was going to get out of this, how he was going to get Lithuania out of this… he glanced over at Russia. Reading? Again? He looked back at Lithuania, who looked up, their eyes meeting, both of them silently apologizing to each other.

Lithuania shook his head, _Please, Gil, please don't do this to yourself, I can take it, please… please… don't make me watch that again, Gil… please, I can't do it. I can't…_

Gil shook his head. He didn't have to be able to read Lithuania's mind, he could see everything he needed to in his eyes. _You're not the only one around here who gets to be so self-sacrificial. My turn, Toris… my turn._

* * *

 _A/N:_ So... this isn't going so well... at all... for them. The writing is going fine lol. This stuff shouldn't be so easy to write... but at least Gil isn't chained to a wall anymore... that's... good...?

As always, reviews are so deeply appreciated! Thank you all for the continued reviews (and spell check notes! Thanks!) Really, reading your reviews is one of the highlights of my day! I love it so much! Thank you all! Cookies, hugs, lemonade, and all things lovely for all of you! :D :D :D

Next chapter is chapter 50... so I want to do a little 'gift' for you all. Obviously, I'll be adding onto this situation, but I want to add something to the chapter as a gift to you guys... so... it will most likely be in a flashback... maybe? What would you like to see? More Baby Ludwig? Prussia in battle? Latvia? Poland? Hungary? What do you guys want!? I won't be able to get everyone's in of course, but I'll pick an idea I like! Send them my way! :D :D :D


	50. Chapter 50: Surrender

Chapter 50

Lithuania tried to look away, seeing Gil starting to shake again as the hours passed He knew Russia hadn't given him enough of the drugs to completely stop the pain. He wasn't going to make it that easy. Lithuania shuddered again, looking back at Russia.

Russia watched Gil, his book in his lap. His face was contemplative, confused… he set his book down and stood suddenly, walking up to Gil, stepping behind him, a flash of cruelty in his violet eyes.

"Are you in pain, Ptitska?"

Gil set his jaw, refusing to reply. He clenched his hands behind his back, standing straight like the soldier he still tried to remind himself he was.

Russia smiled, "You wouldn't admit it if you were, would you?"

Gil said nothing, looking away from Russia as the bigger man stepped beside him, looking at him like he was a possession. He winced as Russia grabbed his face, turning it to face Lithuania.

"Tell me," Russia smirked, "How does it feel to see him like that? You were enemies for years…" Russia let go of Gil's face, smiling to see he kept looking at Lithuania, "Don't tell me it gives you no satisfaction to see him so… powerless…"

Gil turned to look at Russia again. _What are you doing, Russia? What's your game?_

Russia smiled, walking up to Lithuania and forcing his head back, "Tell me there isn't a part of you that still hates him," Russia motioned towards Gil, "You can't have forgotten what he's done to Poland… and I don't just mean recently. You three have been at each other's throats for hundreds of years… It's been entertaining, I won't lie…"

Lithuania struggled, his eyes widening in terror. He'd seen this play before, and he wasn't sure Gil would be able to resist it, not in the state he was in. He winced as Russia released his hair with a hard tug and looked up at Gil, shaking his head, trying to get words out through the gag.

Russia laughed, "That's not going to work, Myshka, you already know that."

Lithuania looked up at him, his eyes flashing, then back down. He couldn't argue with Russia. He stopped struggling, closing his eyes. He wasn't going to win this. Prussia wasn't going to win this. There was only ever one winner when Russia played his games…

Gil felt a shiver of cold go down his spine as Russia stepped closer to him again. He tried to ignore the look he'd seen in Lithuania's eyes. He wasn't going to give in this easily. There was still fight in him… somewhere… he had to fight…

"What's your name?" Russia asked with a smile.

"German Democratic Republic," he answered without even thinking.

"What are you?"

"A communist state."

"Who do you belong to?"

"The Soviet Union… y-you…" GDR closed his eyes, his heartbeat quickening. He didn't know if it was fear or withdrawal. It didn't matter.

"Why was the wall built?" Russia smiled.

"To protect me…" GDR whispered.

"And what punishment do people attempting to cross it deserve?"

"Death…" The words stuck to his tongue, but he couldn't get them to stay in his mouth. He didn't want to say them. He couldn't say this. But he had to… because it was true. He tried to fight it. These were lies. This wasn't true, these were all lies created by Russia to-

"And your brother…?"

Gil bit back a cry as pain drove through his chest like ice, the scar on his chest burning as General Winter attacked him in his mind. He couldn't keep the answer down, "America's… dog…" he shook his head.

"And you… GDR… what are you?"

GDR shook his head, closing his eyes, trying to keep back tears, "Your bird…"

"And do you like your cage?"

Gil nodded, "Da…"

"Very good, GDR," Russia smiled, glancing back at Lithuania, satisfied to see the remnants of tears on the smaller country's cheeks. He turned to GDR again, smiling, "I'll let you think about that for a while," he smirked, walking back to his chair, picking up his book again. He could wait a few more hours. He needed the withdrawal to be worse. He needed GDR's mind to be easy to bend, Lithuania didn't matter. He was just along for the ride. He would do whatever he was ordered without a fight. Russia sighed, looking up at Lithuania again, a flash of grief sparking in his eyes for a moment. Lithuania had been so easy to break… but no matter how much satisfaction he wished it gave him to remember the once proud man crumble before him… it didn't. The memory stung. He closed his eyes, the memory of Lithuania chained to the wall, covered in blood, sobbing, begging, with Latvia's broken body at his feet, the boy just holding onto life… he didn't like it. It was too familiar, too painful. He sighed, shaking the memory away, opening his eyes and turning to his book again, reading:

 _Speak not, lie hidden, and conceal  
_ _the way you dream, the things you feel.  
_ _Deep in your spirit let them rise  
_ _akin to stars in crystal skies  
_ _that set before the night is blurred:  
_ _delight in them and speak no word.  
_ _*  
_ _How can a heart expression find?  
_ _How should another know your mind?  
_ _Will he discern what quickens you?  
_ _A thought once uttered, is untrue.  
_ _Dimmed is the fountainhead when stirred:  
_ _drink at the source and speak no word.  
_ _*  
_ _Live in your inner self alone  
_ _within your soul, a world has grown,  
_ _the magic of veiled thoughts that might  
_ _be blinded by the outer light,  
_ _drowned in the noise of day, unheard...  
_ _take in their song and speak no word._

…

"Sh, sh, you're ok, you're ok!" Hungary held Poland's arms, trying to keep him from scratching at his face, "I'm right here, you're ok…"

Poland screamed again, shaking his head, gasping for breath. He struggled against her hands. He was stronger than she was.

Hungary shook her head, "Oh no you don't!" She pulled him around, hugging him from behind, crossing his arms in front of his chest, holding him firmly, trying to get him to calm down, "Sh, Felek, please… come on it's just me. You're ok. You're ok, no one's going to hurt you!"

Poland struggled less, shaking his head again, tears streaming down his face.

"Sh… sh…"

Poland gasped for breath, his heart slowing finally, his vision clearing. He choked, trying to lean forward.

Hungary let go suddenly, closing her eyes with a sigh. She knelt forwards, pulling her little cousin's hair away from his face with one hand, rubbing his back gently as he heaved, his whole body shaking and sweating. She continued to pet his back, "Sh… sh… it's ok…" She turned away, sighing again. She felt his arms shaking as he tried to hold himself up. She took the band from her own hair and tied it around his, holding his hair back. Gently, she untied her apron and lifted it to his lips, helping him sit up, slowly.

He took the fabric gratefully, wiping his mouth. Tears streamed down his cheeks, he felt so weak. He hated feeling so weak. He sighed, looking up at her, breathing almost normally again, "I-I'm sorry…" he whispered.

Hungary shrugged, "It's a tile floor, no big deal, sweets," She smiled, pushing his hair behind his ear, "I'll get you some water, ok?" She smiled.

Poland nodded, but grabbed the loose fabric of her military pants as she stood to leave, "Don't leave me alone…"

Hungary sighed deeply, looking around for someone, anyone who could stay with him. She sighed again, seeing Estonia walk by at the bottom of the stars, "Essy!" she rolled her eyes, Estonia annoyed her, "Essy I need your help."

He ignored her, continuing to walk forward, looking down at his book.

"Estonia!" she called finally, putting her hands on her hips.

He stopped, looking up at her, pushing up his glasses. He nodded, seeing her motion for him, and walked up the stairs, he stopped, looking down at the mess in front of him. He looked back up at Hungary, expecting her to give him instructions.

"Are you staying with Poland and cleaning up the mess, or going to get him water?" she asked flatly. His passiveness drove her insane.

Estonia thought for a moment, "I'll clean up," he nodded, walking to the nearest utility closet. The house had several, one on each floor.

Hungary knelt beside Poland, smiling kindly, lifting his chin gently to look at her, "I'll be right back, ok cuz? Estonia will stay with you. That's ok, isn't it?"

Poland nodded, still shaking, "Liz…" he looked up at her again as she stood, "Never mind…" he shook his head.

Hungary sighed, knowing better than to push it. She walked to the kitchen to get him some water. He was going to be ok, she'd make sure of that. By the time she'd returned with the water, Poland had calmed down almost completely. Estonia sat across from him, not saying anything, but it didn't matter. The mess had been cleaned up, and Poland had wiped his tears. She smiled gently, sitting next to him, handing him the glass of water.

He drank gratefully, looking up at her as he handed her the empty glass, "Liz..."

"Yes?" she smiled kindly, hearing the worry in his voice.

"Do you think Liet's going to be ok...? And... and Gil?"

"I'm sure they will be." She smiled at him. She bit her lip as she turned away, she wasn't sure. She definitely wasn't sure.

…

Gil tried to force himself to count out his breathing, trying to steady it. His legs already burned from being chained before, and it was getting worse. He tried to ignore it. His heart beat fast. He tried to stay still, tried not to squirm. His body ached, he felt sick. Images of faces and bodies lying in piles infected his mind. He shook his head, trying to force them back, trying to hang on. He was slipping, teetering on the edge of reality, knowing he wasn't going to be able to keep his grip. He felt Russia's cold breath on his neck. He wasn't sure it was real, not that it mattered. He tried to make out the words the man was saying, his hearing and vision blurred, everything moving in slow motion as the walls of the room shifted.

"Poland…" Russia's words drifted in and out of his conscious mind, "Lithuania… battles… enemies… killed… Grunwald…

 _"_ _Totally late…" Poland smiled up at Prussia, his face bloody, his eyes exhausted. He held a wound at his side, his armor dulled by the dirt and blood of battle._

 _Prussia turned to see Lithuania stopping the blade from striking Poland, gripping his arms, holding the sword back._

 _"_ _I… I thought you…" he struggled to break free from Lithuania's grip. It was stronger than he'd expected it to be, "I thought you ran!"_

 _"_ _I came back!" Lithuania shoved his shoulder into Prussia's chest, sending him to the ground._

 _Prussia turned to his side, trying to get up quickly, the task made impossible by the heavy chain-maille he wore. He felt Lithuania's blade dig into his chest through the armor. He gasped, looking up at the dark haired country, blood dripping from his mouth._

 _Lithuania breathed hard, falling to his knees, leaving his sword in Prussia's body. He was exhausted. He felt Poland's arms wrap around his shoulders, and hugged him back, laying his head on the little country's shoulders._

 _Prussia looked at them, struggling to breathe. He grabbed the sword, pulling it out of his chest. He looked back at Lithuania, too weak to hand him his sword._

 _Lithuania stood, taking his sword from Prussia's hand. He looked down at the bleeding country._

Gil looked down at Lithuania, confused, angry. He shook his head, trying to push the past back into his mind, trying to force himself to see the Lithuania in front of him, powerless… helpless…

"Tell me, GDR, is there still a side of you that wants to conquer everything you touch? You don't give up… everyone in Europe was afraid of you… even me…"

GDR felt Russia's gloved hand closing his fingers around the cold metal pipe. It was heavy. He pulled it forward, looking at it. It had caused him, and everyone else in the house, so much pain… but it felt good in his hand. He looked up at Russia, his mind swirling. He didn't want to do this. He wasn't a monster anymore… but seeing his enemy so defenseless… but they weren't enemies, they were friends, he needed Lithuania… but Russia was right, Lithuania was a coward. He was weak. He needed to be stronger… but he didn't want to do this… He jumped, feeling the needle slip into his neck, giving him another dose of the drugs. His heart beat slowed, his vision growing clear again. He looked back down at Lithuania as Russia gave him the full dose he was used to, eight times the recommended human dosage… but he didn't care. He blinked hard as the pain faded. He didn't want to do this… but the pipe felt good in his hands. He felt powerful. He looked at Russia and smirked.

Lithuania trembled, looking into GDR's face. He struggled, shaking his head. He'd begged for Gil to just beat him before… but the bloodlust in the red eyes terrified him.

"Go ahead…" Russia smiled, motioning to Lithuania, who struggled harder.

"You should take your scarf back, Russia," GDR smirked, "I want to hear him beg."

Russia laughed, nodding. He forced Lithuania's head down so he could until the knot. He set the scarf back on his chair, and stood beside it, crossing his arms, motioning for GDR to begin.

GDR smiled, raising the pipe.

"Prussia, look at me!" Lithuania begged, fixing his eyes on GDR's, "Please… this isn't you… Gil…"

Prussia looked at him for a moment, confused, lowering the pipe for a second. He shook his head, raising it again.

Lithuania looked up at GDR, shaking his head, the hatred in the red eyes sent a chill down his spine. He closed his eyes, surrendering.

Eventually, Lithuania stopped moving… then he stopped screaming…

GDR towered over the dark-haired country. He'd untied him, kicking him off the chair, and left him on the ground, slamming the pipe into his body again and again. He'd kicked him, his back, his stomach, his face. He'd stabbed at him with the pipe, using the faucet end of it to tear at his skin. He looked down at the bloody mess in front of him, everything left of Toris. He kicked the smaller country onto his back, looking down into his face. No hatred, no anger, just pain.

"Go ahead…" Lithuania whispered, his voice choked with blood, "Finish it…

 _"_ _Go ahead…" Prussia choked, "Finish it!" he lifted his chin, baring his neck to Lithuania._

 _"_ _No," Lithuania shook his head._

 _"_ _Coward…" Prussia whispered. He gasped suddenly as Lithuania brought his sword down. It sliced into the ground next to his head, close enough to cut his ear. He looked up at Lithuania, who pulled his sword back from the dirt._

 _"_ _No. But you don't deserve to die. Now stay out of my country. Stay away from Poland. You lost," Lithuania took his sword from the ground and walked away without another word._

 _Prussia watched him with hatred. How could he have lost to Lithuania and Poland? Who cares how strong they were? He was the awesome Prussia, how dare they think they could just leave him like this? He tried to sit up and was immediately reminded of the injury he'd received at Lithuania's hands. He groaned in pain, bringing his hand to the wound, pressing into it. He closed his eyes, the world going black._

GDR looked down at Lithuania's face. He let the pipe slip from his hands, which shook too much to keep their grip, _Oh God, what have I done….?_

* * *

 _A/N:_ Well that was... intense... Gil what have you done!? Prussia historically wasn't usually the "good guy"... and Russia just had to remind him of that, didn't he? The dark side of Gil, the VERY dark side, comes out again. There is that side of him, the side of him that enjoys performing 'enhanced interrogations'. He's said before in this story that he's enjoyed breaking men before, that he enjoyed torturing Poland... he's not a saint. And now he actually managed to scare Lithuania, like really, really scare him... do you think Lithuania's going to forgive him for this?

I did give you guys a little bit of "happiness" in this one. Hungary is taking good care of Poland, and he's trying his hardest! He really is! He even asked about Gil, not just Liet. He's still improving! :D

Btw, the poem Russia was reading is apparently: _"Silentium" by Fyodor Tyutchev, translated from Russian by Vladamir Nabokov_ So there you go. :)

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated! And 50 chapters woohoo! The battle of Grunwald was specifically requested by LunaTheBlackWolf, and since it REALLY worked with what I wanted to do in this chapter, I chose that. I also did add some Estonia and Poland in for those of you who asked for that! I still feel like I'm REALLY REALLY bad at writing for Estonia... (he doesn't like Hungary's nickname for him lol.) Anyway, cookies, scones, lemonaide, tea, and all things nice for all of you! :D :D Because I'm extra nice, here's a mini-recipe for my favorite tea drink:  
Earl Grey + 1pt Water + 1pt Milk + Sugar to taste + Vanilla Extract to taste = AMAZINGNESS. Seriously guys, try this, and let me know what you think!

Song for this chapter: "Sound of Madness" - Shinedown. Listened to this basically the whole chapter. Usually I think of it for Russia, though it fits Prussia here to. Basically it's about the crazy one finding the other one weak...yeah it just kinda works lol. Anyway... thank you all for continueing to read and review! :D :D :D


	51. Chapter 51: Room

Chapter 51

"Stay back!" Hungary pushed Gil away, turning back to Estonia, who had lifted Lithuania from Gil's arms.

Gil watched, shaking as they carried Lithuania into his room. The man was conscious, but only just barely. Gil met his eyes for a moment, but he couldn't tell what emotion they held. The world moved in slow motion. His arms shook, from the power that had been behind his strikes as much as the fear that he'd truly hurt Toris. He stood, almost frozen in the hallway, his mouth open, lungs gasping for air as horror sunk into his chest. He didn't wince as he felt a cold gloved hand on his shoulder. He didn't move, just stared at the doorway to the room where almost everyone in the house had disappeared.

"They don't understand, Ptitska…" Russia's voice was sad, almost pained, "They won't understand. We're too powerful for them. We scare them. We'll always scare them. You did the right thing, just as I asked you to…"

 _"_ _Don't you DARE question a direct order, soldier!" Prussia snapped, striking the man with the back of his hand._

 _"_ _Sir, yes sir!" The man stood up straighter, nodding once._

 _"_ _What were your orders?" Prussia asked, his voice cold._

 _"_ _Burn the library, sir."_

 _"_ _Then. Do. It." Prussia snarled, clasping his hands behind his back again. He watched as the soldier led his men into the library, then smiled as the smoke rose to the sky. He turned, walking up to the beautiful redhead kneeling beside the ruins of a once towering building, her hands bound in front of her, the guns of his men pointed at her head. He kicked her leg, smiling at her reaction to look up. He nodded for his men to leave and grabbed her arm, dragging her to her feet, ignoring her pleas. He pushed her up against the wall of the nearest standing building and pulled her arms above her head, bringing his face dangerously close to hers._

 _"_ _You betrayed me…" Belgium sobbed, shaking her head, trying not to look at Prussia._

 _"_ _You know what my soldiers are doing to your women?" he asked coldly, ignoring her rightful accusation._

 _She nodded, shaking, sobbing, looking up into his face as he pressed her against the wall, "Please…"_

 _"_ _I'm going to spare you," he whispered, "Surrender."_

 _She looked up into his eyes, terrified. She nodded, "I surrender…"_

 _"_ _Good," Prussia smirked, "My men will easily get to France from here, you're very helpful…" he pet her cheek with his free hand, then slapped her hard, "Be grateful that's all you'll get from me!" he snapped, "I can't speak for my guards, but I'm not going to protect you from them." He yanked her arms down and dragged her towards the guards, not stopping as she fell to the ground, continuing to pull her along as she struggled and kicked to stand. He dropped her on the ground in front of the guards, noticing her bleeding legs out of the corner of his eye. The stone and rubble had cut into them, tearing her military pants to shreds. He sighed, walking up to one of the guards and leaning to whisper an order to him._

 _"_ _If anyone touches her, I will know, and I will kill them, is that understood?"_

 _The soldier nodded, "Yes, sir!" The man saluted._

 _"_ _Good," Gil nodded back, glancing down at Belgium again. She was sobbing. He hated seeing girls cry. He turned back to look over the city, his red eyes scanning every inch of it. Smoke, dust, ash… the library still burned, the hot red flames lighting the city as twilight set in. The sounds of gunfire and the screams of women chilled the night air. He'd done this. And if felt powerful._

Gil turned to look at Russia, still shaking, "Why…?" he whispered, "Why did you… I didn't want to do that… what did you do to me!?" He pushed Russia's arm off his shoulder, turning suddenly, staring into Russia's face, confused, angry.

"Ptitska…"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" He froze, Russia's expression changing from understanding compassion to anger. "I thought you liked your cage…"

Prussia stared into Russia's face, his hands shaking. He wasn't sure he could get out of this. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He clenched his hands into fists, staring into Russia's eyes.

"I thought you didn't have any fight left, GDR," Russia sighed, "I was wrong…" He pulled his gun from his belt and aimed it at Prussia's chest.

"Go ahead. I don't care." He shook his head. His eyes dared Russia to fire. A few hours away from him would be worth it. A few hours away from everything…

"Ivan what's wrong with you!" Belarus screamed, running to her brother, bringing her knife to his throat, more accessible with only the turtle neck covering it.

Russia didn't move the gun away from Gil, smiling down at his little sister, "I didn't touch him," he smirked, "GDR did."

"What?" Belarus turned, lowering her knife, looking at Gil, shocked, "I thought you two were…"

"Bela, I can explain everything, I-"

Russia laughed.

Gil turned away, he couldn't explain. He couldn't explain everything.

"And what are you going to tell her, GDR? That you were so high you stopped thinking?" Russia smiled at his sister, "With anyone else, Bela, you would have loved watching GDR… blood everywhere… he was entertaining to watch, I promise-"

Belarus cut him off by slapping him with her knife, drawing it across his cheek, leaving a deep, bleeding gash.

Russia sighed, wiping the blood on his sleeve. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her arm up, not enjoying the squeak of pain the sudden movement elicited, "Natya… no one in this house is allowed to strike me. Isn't that right, GDR?" Russia looked up at him sternly.

GDR nodded, still standing frozen as Russia lowered his gun, replacing it in his belt and turning towards his sister again.

"Give me the knife, Natya," Russia sighed again like a parent disappointed with their child.

Belarus looked up at him, shaking. She obeyed, releasing the knife as he brought his free hand to of it, his other still gripping her wrist. He pulled her arm down, turning her hand towards him, exposing her palm.

Russia looked into her face with another sigh, "Don't do that again, all right? This will remind you."

"Vanya, plea-" Belarus winced as her brother drew her knife across her hand. She didn't cry out, only gasped. She looked up at him, shaking.

Russia pulled her hand to his lips, kissing the cut gently, "Now, let's go find you a bandage, all right little sister?" he smiled kindly.

Belarus nodded, shocked. She glanced back at Gil as Russia lead her down the hallway towards the medical closet.

Gil watched, horrified. If Russia would do that to his own sister… he'd never seen him hurt either of them before. He looked around the hallway as Russia and Belarus rounded the corner, walking out of sight. He looked back towards Lithuania's room as he heard a choked cry of pain, and murmurs of comfort from the others. He ran towards the door, doubting they would let him anywhere near Lithuania. He bit his lips as Hungary's eyes met his. Hatred. He'd rarely seen the expression from her, and never towards him. She ignored him, turning back to Lithuania as she held both of his hands while Estonia tended to his back with help from Ukraine. Gil shuddered, he'd used the facet of the pipe on Lithuania's back, tearing open old wounds, and any fresh ones he could find left from Russia a few days before. He looked around the room, looking to see if Poland was sitting nearby. He didn't see him. He looked back towards the bed, watching in shock as Poland stepped out from behind Estonia, handing the taller country bandages, pushing Lithuania's hair away from his face gently, looking up to Estonia for instructions. Gil was surprised to see him helping. He looked all right. He was relieved. He'd been worried about how much damage he had done to the little blond. He stepped back as Poland looked up, the green eyes meeting his. He turned away from the door way as Poland looked up at Estonia, nodding and walking towards him. Gil took a step down the hallway, away from the door, when he heard Poland's voice behind him.

"Gil?" Poland's voice was shaky but determined.

Gil turned around, trying to stand less straight, trying to look less intimidating, "J-yes?" he made sure to use English, afraid German would trigger another panic attack from Poland.

"We-we need to talk…" Poland whispered, not looking at Gil's face.

"All right…" Gil nodded, "Where? Here?"

Poland shook his head, "No… F-follow me… but not too close…" He nodded.

Gil walked behind Poland carefully, pausing for a moment to increase the distance between them until he could see Poland shaking less. He looked around as he was led into a small guest room that no one was using. Once inside, Poland turned to face him.

"Poland…"

Poland ran forward, slamming Gil back into the wall, his arms on the slightly taller man's shoulders, "WHY!?" he said, his voice thick with anger, "You let me go, then you do that to Liet!? WHY!? What the HELL HAPPENED in there!?" Poland let go of Gil's shoulders, stepping back again, wrapping his arms around himself, shaking still, from both fear and hatred.

"Russia got me to do what he wanted… I don't even remember how… or… Feliks I don't remember anything until I dropped that pipe, I-"

"You always were good at hurting people…" Poland shook his head, angry tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I know…" Gil looked down.

"Look at me…" Poland whispered, "LOOK AT ME!"

Gil obeyed, looking up into the haunting green eyes. He had to force himself not to turn away. The agony in Poland's eyes was more than he could take.

"Liet's been begging us not to hurt you… he isn't blaming you. I am."

Gil nodded, "I wouldn't expect you not to-"

"I'm not finished yet…" Poland's voice shook as he tried to bring all the authority he could muster into it.

Gil waited, silently staring into eyes he wished would look away from him. They didn't.

"I am blaming you, Gil… because it was your hands that… you were the one who drew… blood…" Poland tried to force his voice to steady, "But… you're not the only one Russia has forced to do… horrible things… He's made me betray my own people, more than once… I saw what he did to them… and I couldn't stop it…" Poland looked away, "Just like I couldn't stop you…" His eyes met Gil's again.

Gil set his jaw, forcing himself not to look away, forcing himself to keep his eyes fixed on Poland's as tears slipped down his cheeks.

"I don't forgive you, Gil… I can't… but…" Poland almost struggled to get the words out, "Thank you… for protecting me back there… I… I couldn't have…"

Gil said nothing, waiting for Poland to continue.

"Liet said you could have killed him and you didn't…?"

Gil nodded slowly, still looking into Poland's face.

"Thank you… for that too…" Poland nodded, staring up into the red eyes he'd never seen look so broken before. They were nothing like the blood hungry eyes he'd seen staring down at him years and years before. They were nothing like the eyes that sparked with excitement as he'd cried and screamed… There was pain in them now, almost like his. But not like his. Prussia was still Prussia, no matter how many times Russia told him he wasn't, and Poland couldn't forgive him. Poland ran out of the room without another word.

Gil stared into the empty room. There was no furniture, just long dark red curtains on the windows, half closed. Cold evening light streamed past them, casting a haze on the dusty room. Gil slid down the wall, resting his arms on his knees, staring at nothing. He couldn't think. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs, or something else. It didn't matter. He could still feel tears streaming down his cheeks, but he didn't stop them. He didn't sob, he barely breathed, just stared straight ahead. Finally, he started shaking uncontrollably. His breath caught in his chest. He still looked straight ahead, trying to process everything. He couldn't process everything. He brought his hands to his face, pressing them into his forehead. He felt dizzy, his skin going cold. He shook his head, gasping for breath, trying to breathe normally, trying to regain the sanity he felt slipping.

"G-Gil?"

He turned suddenly, still trembling, tears still running down his cheeks. "Latvia…" he looked up at him, shaking his head, "Go… please go, I don't want to hurt you too…"

Latvia took a step back, "L-Litva told me… told us… what what what what happened… I'm still m-mad at at at you, but… but Litva isn't…" Latvia shook his head.

Gil looked away. He wanted Lithuania to be angry with him. He should be angry with him. Why wasn't he angry with him!?

"R-Russia made me…" Latvia paused, biting his lip. It wasn't a memory he liked to talk about, "he made me… k-kill a b-bird once… to to to to 'make m-m-me stronger'…"

Gil looked up at Latvia again, "I'm sorry…"

Latvia looked back at Gil, taking a step closer to him, "Are you ok…?"

Gil shook his head, "Nein… Nein Ich nicht…" He wrapped his arms around Latvia as the little country ran to him. He buried his face in the boy's jacket, letting Latvia hold him as he sobbed until he couldn't speak until he could barely breathe.

Latvia looked up around the room as he held Gil. He turned to the light streaming in through the window. So cold. Why was everything in the house so cold?

* * *

A/N: So... for some reason, no one is as mad at Gil as I expected them to be... I guess Liet is convincing them? (except maybe Hungary... she's pretty angry... so is Belarus...) but a lot of them understand... which is pretty sad itself, that they would understand... *sigh* At least things are starting to get a little better? Also, a World War 1 flashback for you all. (Does anyone else think no one talks about WWI enough? It's almost always WWII... for everything, not just Hetalia... odd...)

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated! I always reply, and I tend to write very long replies. XD And I love love love love LOVE discussing this story with you guys, your theories, ideas, predictions, your insights on the chapters... etc. As always, lots of treats! Let's see... Reeces, butterfingers, and M&M's for everyone! Then Lemonade, iced tea, and mango smoothies for all! :D :D :D :D

I actually listened to soundtrack music while writing this one. Specifically the Soundtrack from "Munich" a 2005 film that I haven't seen. I was on John Williams Spotify page and I found it and just... perfection... the two songs I specifically listened to were: "A Prayer for Peace" for the beginning, and "Hatikvah (the Hope)" as soon as Poland starts talking to Gil. There you go! Enjoy!


	52. Chapter 52: Players

Chapter 52

Gil walked past the open door to Lithuania's room, stopping just past it as he heard the dark-haired country say his name. He stepped back, putting his hand on the doorframe, looking in, staying back.

"It's ok…" Lithuania motioned for him to come in weakly, "It's ok, I'm not angry with you."

"You should be," Gil shook his head and turned away.

"Gil!" Lithuania called after him, sitting up carefully. He sighed in relief as Gil stepped back into the doorway, "Help me with the bandages? I would call one of the others, but since you're already here…"

Gil sighed, knowing it was just an excuse to talk to him. He didn't want Lithuania's forgiveness. He wanted him to hate him but knew he wouldn't. He walked in slowly, pulling an old wooden chair up towards Lithuania's bed and sitting down. The lamp on the nightstand cast a warm light in the otherwise dark room. The light should have been comforting, but Gil hated it. It's light intensified the shadows on the cuts and bruises he'd left all over Lithuania's body. The man's right arm was wrapped in a cast. Gil closed his eyes.

 _Lithuania raised his right arm across his face, looking up at GDR, shaking, "Gil, Please… please…"_

 _GDR grabbed Lithuania's wrist and snapped it easily, smiling as Lithuania cried out in pain. He threw the man's wrist to the ground and kicked his ribs as hard as he until he saw blood dripping from the country's mouth._

Gil stood, turning to walk away.

"Where are you going? You're going to help me aren't you?" Lithuania tried to smile weakly, sitting up more, motioning to the medical supplies beside the bed.

Gil didn't look back at him but stopped, he'd been avoiding him for the past week. The others hadn't said a word to him, except Latvia. He knew they were all angry with him, and they had every right to be, but he couldn't face them. He'd barely left his room. Latvia brought him everything he needed, and every night, he went to Russia's office to get the drugs. Every night Russia put a needle in his arm and asked him the questions he hated answering no matter how true they'd become. He was owned, possessed, controlled… He hated relying on Russia for everything, even his own sanity. He looked back at Lithuania, sitting back down in the chair. He forced himself to look up into the green eyes staring back at him.

"Gil, it's ok. It's ok, I forgive you. I know what happened… it's ok…" Lithuania tried to be reassuring.

Gil felt sick, "I WANT YOU TO HATE ME!" He shouted suddenly, slamming his fists into the sides of the chair, standing, "I want you to yell at me! I want you to tell me what a monster you know I am! I want you to hate me! Everything I am! Everything I stood for, everything I do now! I'm exactly like Russia, can't you see that!?" he shook his head, trying to think.

Lithuania looked down, waiting for Gil to continue, knowing he would.

"Why don't you get it, Toris!? I loved hurting you! I loved every second of it! Your blood… the way you screamed in pain… oh, it was better than the drugs… don't you understand!? I'm a monster, just like Russia! I always have been! I've always enjoyed a good fight, and even better, seeing my enemies bleeding on the ground… the way I interrogate, the way I torture… I'm good at it. Don't you get it, I'm good at it! Poland's right, I'm good at hurting people! I always have been… My whole life all I've ever done, all I've ever been raised to do was conquer and kill! I'm a soldier! I kill and I follow orders and I hurt people! I'm a monster just like Russia, I-"

"STOP IT!" Lithuania snapped, angry. He forced himself to stand, his whole body shaking with the effort. He didn't care, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself! You were one of the greatest nations in Europe-"

"Greatest tyrants-"

"No!" Lithuania shook his head, "I know you've done terrible things, well so. have. I. We have, Gil… we'll all had good leaders and bad leaders…"

"I didn't say 'my leaders', I said _I_ enjoyed hurting you! I don't want you to forgive me, I want you to hate me!"

"Well, I don't. And I won't. Because as much as you say you enjoyed it, I know you hate yourself for it. Gil, that wasn't you back there… I know that-"

"Yes, it was…" Gil shook his head, looking away.

"It wasn't you _anymore._ The war changed everyone… everyone…" Lithuania sighed, "Now stop feeling sorry for yourself. You're the awesome Prussia aren't you?"

Gil looked away, "Nein…"

Lithuania growled, slamming his hand into the nightstand, "D*****t Gil, stop it! I don't care what Russia's done to you! You're stronger than this, don't you DARE give up like this!"

"Says the man who gave up completely!"

"No, I didn't!" Lithuania shook his head, frustrated, "Don't _you_ get it? I do fight. I fight Russia every chance I get!"

Gil looked at him, confused.

Lithuania sighed in frustration, gritting his teeth and looking into Gil's face, "You still haven't figured it out, have you?"

Gil didn't reply.

"I fight him with all I've got. I fight him with the only thing I have to fight him with, and that's his own power hungry bloodlust! Because if I can protect the people I love, if I can protect Bela and Poland and Latvia and everyone else in this house, including you, then he can do whatever he wants to me. I don't care how much he hurts me because it's on my terms! I volunteered! I let him hurt me so he doesn't hurt ANYONE else that I care about including himself! I fight back every day. Russia's not the only one in this house who knows how to play games, Gil…"

Gil looked into Lithuania's face. He'd forgotten how noble and powerful he really looked. The mouse-ish timidity was gone. Lithuania looked like he remembered him, strong. "And what happened last week? Were you in control then? Were you playing back? Was that on your terms…?"

Lithuania shook his head, "No. No, but I don't blame you for that."

"You should! I don't know how to fight him anymore! No matter what I do he retaliates! No matter how hard I try to fight him he always wins!" Gil clenched his hands into fists.

"I know…" Lithuania sighed, "Sometimes I think he only lets me get away with it because… I'm his 'favorite'."

Gil shuddered, "Why? Has he ever told you?"

Lithuania nodded, "Once, when he was drunk."

Gil sighed, "Toris, I don't know how to fight him… Give me a map and ten thousand men on horseback and I will win almost every time. I can plan a winning battle in my sleep. I'm the best sword fighter of all of us, and if you give me a gun I will not miss… but… but the kind of mind games he's playing…" Gil touched his arm through his sleeve where the injection marks from the night before were almost fully healed. "Why shouldn't I give up? I already have before… I thought he broke the fight out of me, I don't want it… it's too painful… but… but he didn't. Because I still hate him. I still want to fight him with everything that I am… but I can't… he… I'm his bird… his caged bird who can't get away…"

"At least you have people out there who are trying to help you…" Lithuania's voice dropped to a whisper.

Gil looked at him suddenly, a dull ache settling into his stomach, "W-what?"

Lithuania smiled, half laughing, "Oh, Gil… you still don't get it… You, Poland, Hungary, you have people out there, other countries, who are trying to get you back. Do you really think your brother isn't spending every spare moment he has trying to figure out how to break that wall? And America's helping him, I'm sure… he would… but… no one's helping me, Gil…"

Gil keep his eyes fixed on Lithuania's. He expected to see sorrow in them, but it wasn't there, just resignation.

Lithuania looked around the room, sighing sadly, "You know Gil, I've lived here so long it… it feels more like home than mine…"

Gil said nothing, looking away.

"I'm sorry you're stuck here in hell too… but you're not the only one… and you're actually going to get out someday."

"Why don't you leave?"

"I can't."

"And why not?" Gil asked, half serious, "Why not, right now? Just tell Russia you're leaving."

"Gil, you know it's not that simple. What do you think he would do if I tried something like that?"

"Kill you?" Gil half laughed darkly.

Lithuania shrugged, "And slowly, most likely," he sighed. "Maybe someday… but you have to stay strong, Gil. Keep fighting, even if it's only in your own mind. Don't let him in. He's trying. Don't let him in."

Gil nodded, "None of this changes the fact that you should hate me for what I did to you…"

"And that doesn't change that I don't hate you, and I do forgive you."

Gil sighed, shaking his head.

"Are you going to help me with these bandages?" Lithuania looked down at his chest and shoulders, wrapped in the gauze.

Gil sighed again, and nodded, "Ok… let me get some water…" Gil took the bowl from the nightstand and brought it into the bathroom.

…

Germany yawned, forcing himself to keep his eyes fixed on the books in front of him. So much paper work…

He lifted his head suddenly, confused. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep.

"Germany?" Italy whispered gently, "It's almost 3 in the morning…"

Germany looked up, smiling in amusement to see Italy in his pajamas with bunny slippers. He looked at his watch. It was 2:53 AM exactly. He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"You need sleep if you're going to help Prussia." Italy put his hand on Germany's shoulder with a sigh, "I know you want to help him but-"

"I know," Germany nodded, "I know, I'm no good to him if I'm a zombie."

Italy shook his head, "No! Not a zombie! Zombies are scary! And you're not!" Italy smiled.

Germany smiled back, "You sure?"

Italy nodded, "Not scary at all!"

"I'm glad someone thinks so…"

Italy sighed again, putting his other hand on Germany's shoulder, looking up at him, his voice growing more serious, "They've all forgiven you. They're learning to trust you. You're not who you were then, ok?" Italy smiled gently.

Germany nodded with a sigh, "Danke, Italy…"

Italy grinned, "Ve~~~" he hugged Germany.

Germany accepted it, hugging back awkwardly.

"Ok, I'm going back to sleep!" Italy smiled, running up to the staircase, "If I don't hear you in your room by 3:30 I'm going to come drag you upstairs!"

Germany smiled, laughing internally. He nodded to Italy, "Deal."

Italy smiled again and disappeared up the stairs and around the corner.

Germany sighed, looking back down at the papers. He needed help. He couldn't finish all this. Lists, names, organizations, money, as much information as he could find on the wall. The guards, their names, the times they changed rotations, the regular times for people to go through the checkpoints, everything he knew, everything he could find. He looked at the phone. It was entirely the wrong time to make a call, but he had to. He growled, annoyed with himself, and picked up the phone, pulling a phone number from his pocket. He dialed it and waited.

"Ja?" A young man's voice replied.

"Cort?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Who's asking?"

"Your country."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Germany sighed, "It's Germany, Ludwig Beilschmidt, Gil's brother."

"Oh, you mean that literally… ok. I'm listening."

"How's your leg?"

"Fine. That's not why you're calling." It wasn't a question.

"Nein," Germany sighed, "Look, you grew up on the other side as a child, you know how it works. You spied for me once… I need your help again."

"A spy with a fake leg sounds like a great idea, no thank you, I think I'd rather stay alive. Besides, Russia knows who I am, if he sees me he'll kill me."

"I don't need you to do anything dangerous. I need to figure out who to get the wall down. I need to know what to do once it does… Cort, I need your help."

There was another long silence.

"Ja. Ok. When am I meeting you?"

"Tomorrow at noon. I'll have lunch for us, and we can discuss things then."

"Where are we meeting?"

"My house."

"All right. I'll be there." Cort hung up the phone.

Germany replaced it on the base and sighed, pushing his hair back instinctively, exhausted. He looked up at the stairs. He needed sleep. He desperately needed sleep. Slowly, he walked up the steps, so tired he felt like he could fall asleep standing up. Finally, he made it to his room and crashed onto his bed, not even bothering to take off his belt and shoes.

…

Gil finished wrapping the last bandage around Lithuania's shoulders, "There," he sighed, "Done."

"Thank you, Gil," Lithuania smiled, nodding, "It's hard to do by myself…"

Gil nodded again, "I'm sure…"

 _"_ _Russia, please! Stop this, please!" Lithuania begged, looking up at the giant country who stood watching from beside his chair as GDR dug the faucet of the pipe across his already broken skin, ripping it up, tearing through the fresh wounds. He screamed in excruciating pain again as Gil used even more force on his back. He looked up at Russia, who wore no expression. No pleasure, no hatred, no anger, nothing, just nothing. He looked back up at GDR, screaming again as GDR kicked him onto his back. He looked into GDR's face as the man laid the pipe against his jaw._

 _"_ _You like helping the others, don't you Litva?" GDR's voice was cold, even colder than Russia's, "Could you still do that without a voice?" GDR dragged the pipe down slowly until it rested on the center of Lithuania's throat._

 _Lithuania looked up at him, his eyes begging, "Gil, please…"_

"And thank you…" Lithuania looked back at Gil, "For not… hurting me worse. For not killing me…"

Gil nodded, looking down, "I'm glad I didn't…" he stood, "Do you need anything else."

Lithuania shook his head, looking at Gil, worried suddenly.

Gil nodded again and turned towards the door, walking towards it quickly.

"Gil."

Something in Lithuania's voice made Gil stop. He turned to look at him slowly.

"Give it back," Lithuania sighed, looking into the haunting red eyes.

Gil looked back at Lithuania, "And what am I giving back?"

"You know what," Lithuania said, sighing.

Gil walked up to Lithuania slowly, looking at him, his eyes apologizing silently.

Lithuania held out his hand, sighing deeply as Gil dropped his razor blade into his palm. He looked up at the white-haired country, "Don't start. You won't be able to stop…"

"Who said I'll want to stop?" Gil didn't look at Lithuania.

"Someone who doesn't."

Gil turned to look into Lithuania's face. There was pain in his eyes again. Gil walked away without another word and stepped out of the room.

Lithuania sighed as soon as Gil was gone. He picked up the razor blade and looked at it, turning it in his fingers. He closed his eyes hard for a moment, then looked at his left arm, then back at the razor. He closed his eyes again, closing his fingers around the blade. He set it down on the nightstand and put his face in his hands.

* * *

A/N: An interesting chapter to write... Gil gets yelled at by Lithuania, who's stronger than most think... (writing this has made him one of my favorite characters... and not just in Hetalia. Like one of my favorite characters of anything ever... :) And the end... *sigh* at least Liet put the razor down... I actually used to self-harm as a teenager. It was horrible. It's a terrible place to be. I'm always willing to talk about it. If you need help, please get help! You're too valuable to hurt yourself. I promise.

Anyway... some happiness on the West side of the wall! Italy's taking care of work-a-holic Germany, and Germany's going to get some help from Cort (who's developed a sassy side apparently...? Not sure where that came from, but I like it.) Also, Italy in bunny slippers just makes me happy. So cute! XD

As always, reviews are so appreciated! I love how quickly you guys are reviewing too! It certainly encourages me to continue updating so quickly! :D :D Cookies, lemonade, and treats for all reviewers! Thank you! Danke! Spasiba! :D :D :D


	53. Chapter 53: Found Out

Chapter 53

 _"_ _Nyet… please…" Tears slipped down cold cheeks. The man winced as a gloved hand grabbed his face after striking it, forcing his chin up to look into a pair of threatening eyes._

 _"_ _You know it has to be this way. Stop fighting it. There's nothing you can do."_

 _"_ _Nyet!" The man struggled at the handcuffs that bound him to the chair, "Please I'll do anything…"_

 _"_ _This is what you have to do. That's all. I'm sorry. Don't you realize there isn't another way?"_

 _"_ _Please…" The man brought his head down, shameless sobs shaking his giant frame. He looked up as another man, wearing a long black military coat and matching cover, stepped closer to him. He shivered, shaking his head, turning away, trying to fight back as the man grabbed his face, turning it towards his own._

 _"_ _Don't you see? It has to be this way Snezhinashka (little snowflake) You need to be stronger. If there was another war, you would die. This is better. This is better for your people, for you. You don't have a choice anymore. This is what the people want. This is what we want."_

 _"_ _There has to be another way…" Russia shook his head as General Winter released his face, tears streaming. He didn't care. He wasn't afraid of the tears, not for this, "Pozhaluysta nyet… (please no). Please, I can't do this…"_

 _"_ _We're giving you a choice to sign the papers," The shorter balding man held out papers to him, offering to remove the cuff from his right hand._

 _Russia shook his head, gritting his teeth and looking up at the man, "You'd have to kill me first…" his voice shook with anger and pain._

 _"_ _That won't be necessary…" the man sighed, shaking his head. He took the pen and signed the order himself, handing it to one of the officers standing next to him, "Yakov, see to this personally."_

 _"_ _Nyet!" Russia screamed, struggling. He couldn't break the chair. He wasn't strong enough… "Lenin please… please don't do this…"_

 _"_ _It's necessary. I'm sorry. It brings me no pleasure. But what needs to be done, must be done. There are no morals in politics."_

 _Russia watched the man walking away, wincing as he felt General Winter's hand on his shoulder. He tried to hold back the tears. Whatever was coming, it would be worse if he cried. General Winter hated it when he cried…_

 _"_ _Well, Russia? Russia?"_

"Russia? Russia?"

A voice drifted into Russia's mind. He winced, trying to wake up, trying to regain control.

"Russia?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to shake him awake. He sat up suddenly, pulling the gun from under his pillow and aiming it at the head of the man leaning over him. He pulled the gun away, instinctively reaching up with his other hand to make sure the bandages around his neck were still in place. They weren't, but it didn't matter. It was GDR, and he'd seen them already. Still, it made him uncomfortable. It felt vulnerable. He wanted to be strong. He grabbed his scarf from its place draped over the headboard and wrapped it around his neck before turning to GDR again.

"Why are you here?" Russia asked, his voice calm.

"I… I could hear you all the way across the hall, I wanted to make sure you were all ri-"

"I'm fine. Spasiba for your concern. Go back to bed," Russia laid the gun under his pillow again, starting to turn away from GDR.

"I didn't know you had nightmares…" Gil knew he was pushing it, but he was sick of not knowing anything.

"Everyone has nightmares sometimes," Russia tried to shrug it off.

"Not like that…" Gil shook his head.

"Like what?" Russia's voice was still calm, but he didn't move as he spoke, completely frozen, listening to Gil's response.

Gil wasn't sure if he should answer, afraid the truth would make Russia angry, but a lie was riskier… "You were crying… you were screaming for something to stop, begging… whatever it was… you weren't happy about it…"

Russia sighed, "Nyet… I wasn't…" He didn't know why he said that much.

Silence. The room felt even colder, like Russia's words had brought a horrible unsettling chill into the room. Finally, Gil stood to leave.

"I couldn't stop it…" Russia looked away, sighing deeply, "The uh…" he paused, trying to force himself to speak without letting the catch in his throat be heard, "The order to kill the Romanovs. There was nothing I could do. They killed the whole family and many of their servants… It should have taken 10 seconds… but it took hours. I went to see what they'd done after it was over. I had to go. I needed to see it…." He looked down with a sigh, "They were family, GDR. My family…" Russia looked up at him again, shaking.

Gil shivered. He couldn't tell if Russia was angry, or in pain, or both, but it didn't matter. It scared him.

"Do you know why they killed them, GDR?" Russia turned so he was sitting on the bed, facing Gil.

Gil shook his head, hiding his trembling hands behind his back.

"Because when you and your brother started a war, Nicholas had no choice but to fight you. We couldn't do nothing, it wasn't a choice we had. And we won but the cost…" Russia shook his head, "I was dying… I was weak…" he stood, taking a step towards Gil, "So my people followed new leaders and murdered an entire family and there was nothing I could do about it! I couldn't stop them! And the worst part? I knew we had to. I knew there was no other way for me to survive, but I…" he tried to steady his voice, "I didn't want to… not after what I saw in that room…" Russia grabbed Gil's neck and brought him to his knees.

Gil didn't fight.

"YOUR FAULT!" Russia threw Gil down on his side, releasing his neck.

Gil coughed hard, grabbing his neck, looking up at Russia, "Russland, I'm sorry…"

Russia grabbed his neck again, cutting off his words. He looked down into Gil's face, leaning down threateningly, "And now look at me. I'm stronger than all of you. Stronger than you ever were, 'Prussia'." he spat out the word like it stung his mouth.

GDR shivered, gasping in pain at the sound of his old name.

"And my revenge on you?" Russia leaned in closer to him, whispering in his ear, "You're never going to be strong again. I made sure of that. I broke you, GDR, and no matter what happens to you 100 years from now… you're never going to be what you were. You're never going to be strong again," Russia dropped him, kicking him with an order to stand, "Now: Get. Out. You leave in the morning." he stood straight, watching the smaller country scramble through the door. He walked back to his bed, putting his head in his hands. He was so tired. He hated it. He was starting to feel… weaker…

…

"And how I am supposed to know that, you're the country!?" Cort sat back in his chair, looking at Germany, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at the country for a second before smirking.

"It was a rhetorical question! I'm a country not a psychic."

"You know, you've mentioned you're a country 17 times in the past hour…" Cort smirked.

"Sorry…" Germany rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "I guess I'm used to having to explain it to humans when they hear about… it…"

Cort shrugged, turning back to the books.

Both of them worked in almost silence for a while, the room filled with the scratching of pens and the flipping of pages. So. much. paperwork.

Cort looked up finally, pausing before speaking, "Germany?" He asked.

Germany didn't answer, clearing his throat a little.

Cort rolled his eyes, "Ludwig?"

Germany looked up, "Ja?"

"I know I said I didn't want anything in return for helping you with this… that serving my country is enough for me, but…"

Germany smiled a little, "What would you like?"

"I…" Cort sighed, "I want to find my sister. I… I _need_ to find my sister…"

Germany sighed, "She said she didn't want to be found…"

"I know…" Cort shook his head, "I know she did, but I have to find her. I have to. I need to know if she's still alive if she's ok… did she start a new life, or is she… just ruining it… I have to know," he looked up at Germany steadily, "She's my big sister. And I have to get her back. I know you know what that feels like. I'm helping you get your brother back… help me find my sister?"

Germany looked at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the young man's. It wasn't an easy request, but Cort was right, it was fair. More than fair. "What's the last piece of information you got?"

"That she went back to Berlin."

Germany closed his eyes hard, pressing his fingers on the bridge of his nose, "Which side?"

"I don't know."

…

Gisela laughed hard, swinging her legs as she sat on the officer's lap, "That's hilarious! Tell another one!" she cooed, kissing the man's cheek.

"Well-" The officer smiled, then pushed her off his lap, suddenly standing, with the other officers in the room, and saluting the man who walked into the bar.

Gil motioned for them all to relax and went to sit at the bar.

Gisela froze, staring. She looked back at the officer, who motioned for her to sit on his lap again. She didn't move.

"Hey," he grabbed her wrist, "I'm paying for time, aren't I?"

"Let go of me…" she tried to pull her arm away.

"Calm down. What's wrong with you?" he grabbed her waist.

Gisela struggled, "I said let go of me!"

Gil stood to turn around, taking a step closer to the officer, "I believe the lady asked you to let. her. go." He stared into the officer's face until the man looked away, releasing Gisela. She ran out the back door of the bar, glancing at the two of them before slipping outside into the alley, sitting on the ground, her back against the stone. She pressed her hands into her forehead, shaking, gasping for breath. That couldn't be him. It couldn't possibly be him. He was dead. She knew he was dead, she'd seen him shoot himself, there was no way he was alive… Her thoughts were interrupted as Gil sat next to her, lighting a cigarette.

"I thought I saw you leave this way," he offered her a cigarette.

She stood instantly, stepping back away from him, "Who are you?"

Gil looked at her and sighed deeply, "So they didn't tell you…"

"Tell me what?" her hand shook. She wrapped them around herself, shivering in the cool night air.

Gil stood, taking a step closer to her, "You're not going to believe me."

"Try me!" She snapped.

"I'm a country. Literally. I'm the personification of the country of East Germany, or the German Democratic Republic, or GDR, or whatever the hell I am anymore."

"You… I saw you…" She trembled.

Gil sighed, "Like I said… I'm a country. I can't die. At least, not permanently…"

"That would suck…"

Gil shrugged, nodding, "Usually not, but… yeah. It pretty much sucks," he nodded again, sighing.

"You killed… you killed my sister…"

Gil said nothing for a moment, shaking his head, "I'm so sorry… I'm so, so sorry…"

"I thought… I thought you were in love with her…"

Gil nodded again, "I was. And she knew that I hope…"

"Why!?"

"Because I couldn't kill the rest of you! Because I couldn't let Russia kill Cort, or you, or your mother… It was one of the hardest choices I've ever made in my life, but I made it and I own it, and I will never be able to forgive myself for it, but it's what I did. And it's done… I'm so sorry…" He looked into her face with a sigh. Her makeup was old and smeared, and he couldn't help but notice her skit was very short, and her shirt was tight and low. She shivered again. He took off his jacket and walked up to her, waiting for a moment to see if she would push him away. She didn't. He slipped the jacket over her shoulders, rubbing her arms through the fabric a little, "That better?"

She nodded, looking down, biting her lip, "My family… everything that happened to us… to… me…"

"You can blame me. It's my fault, I deserve it…"

Gisela closed her eyes, leaning her head on Gil's shoulder, sobbing as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm so… so sorry…"

"I forgive you…" she sobbed, "I had to… I forgave you a long time ago… I…" she couldn't speak anymore, her voice too choked.

Gil closed his eyes, refusing to cry, "Danke…" he whispered, not trusting himself to speak. He held her for a while, before she looked up at him, pulling away. "Now," he was almost afraid to ask, "Where do you live? I'll walk you there."

"N-nearby…" Gisela looked down again, picking at one of her bracelets.

Gil sighed, closing his eyes, "And um…" he wasn't sure how to ask, "Is it safe there?"

Gisela didn't answer.

Gil nodded, "Ok… I'll get you a room in a hotel somewhere ok?"

"I could stay with you…" She looked up at him.

"Nein," he shook his head, "I'm not asking for anything, you're not offering anything, and I don't want people to think you are. Gisela… to me, you're still a 14-year-old girl with too many questions about war. I will never ask anything from you… ok?"

Gisela nodded, smiling gratefully.

"Ok, let's get you somewhere safe and dry to sleep for the night," he nodded. He didn't care what his officers thought. She needed help, and he was going to help her. He owed her at least that much.

* * *

A/N: Lots of things happening...Russia's getting weaker, Cort is still Cort, and he wants to help his sister... but Gil gets there first! Poor Gisela... She needs his help. More on her story later. Gil's good side comes out again. He's a lot stronger when he's not around Russia. (raise of hands if you wish he'd had the opportunity to punch that jerk with Gisela? *raises hand*)

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated! I LOVE LOVE LOVE reading them. Even the long ones, for those of you who have been apologizing for leaving long reviews! XD Don't! I love it! It shows me how invested you are in the story! Thank you all again! I look forward to your thoughts on a (mostly) lighter chapter! :D Hugs and cookies and lemonade for all.


	54. Chapter 54: Clothes

Chapter 54

"Here," Gil opened the door of the hotel room. It was simple but comfortable. He wanted to get her the best room in the city, but then his men would really talk, and that was the last thing he needed.

Gisela looked around the room with a grateful smile, "Danke, Gilbert."

"Bitte," Gil smiled back, nodding to her, "Are you sure you're all right? Have you eaten?"

Gisela shook her head, "But I'm fine, don't-"

"No, I'm going to make sure you get dinner…" Gil sighed. _Dinner…_ The last time he had dinner with her family was just a few days before… but he tried not to think about it.

"You shouldn't be seen with me, Gil… it… it would be better for you if you weren't seen with me…" she looked down.

"Hey," he walked up to her, putting his hand on her shoulder gently, "Don't. I don't care. I owe you at least dinner and a safe room, let me help you?"

"What if I don't want more help? What if I chose this and…" she looked down.

"You're telling me you like… doing this? Gisela…" Gil didn't believe her.

She didn't answer.

"I won't ask what happened, but… Gisela this is illegal here, you could get in trouble, you could go to pr-"

"You think I don't know that? Gil…" Gisela looked away, "Please… please don't lecture me…"

Gil sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to protect you…"

"I know. You… You're not going to turn me in…are you?"

Gil shook his head, "Nein," he thought for a moment, "But I'm going to help you stop."

Gisela nodded, "Okay…"

Gil smiled, nodding then sighed again, "Ok, well we need to get you food… and something else to wear…"

"I shouldn't go shopping with you… people are going to get the wrong idea…"

Gil nodded, "Just… tell me what your sizes are and I'll get them for you. I know, I know that's still not a great plan, but it's better than you wearing that."

Gisela nodded back. She walked to the small desk and picked up the pad of paper and the pen. She wrote down her sizes and handed it to Gil, "There you go. Thank you." She smiled.

Gil smiled back, "Ok. Now, don't run away or anything?"

Gisela nodded, "Ok." She took his jacket off her shoulders and handed it back to him.

Gil slipped the paper into his pocket and took the jacket, putting it back on. He looked at her for a moment again, pity hitting him in the chest. He walked out of the room and to the nearest store, which was open for barely a half another hour. He found her a pair of jeans, a pretty burnt orange tee shirt with loose sleeves, and a pair of tennis shoes. When he got back to her hotel room, he stopped in front of the door, hoping she was still there. He knocked.

There was a long pause before Gisela opened the door. She was wearing the robe from the hotel and her hair was soaking.

Gil looked into her face. All her makeup was washed off. She looked beautiful, very much like he remembered her, despite the ten years that had passed. He handed her the shopping bags and stepped inside as she motioned him in.

"Hopefully that all fits," he said, sitting down in one of the chairs across the room by the window.

"Danke," She smiled, looking into the shopping bags and smiling. She stepped back into the bathroom and took off the bathrobe. She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment. She was skinny, too skinny. She looked at the bruises on her ribs and hips. She hated it. She looked back at the bathroom door. Was he really going to help her? And he didn't want anything? She wanted to trust him. It'd been so long since a man was kind to her… but he shot her sister… to protect her and her mother and her brother… but it didn't change what he had done. And he was helping her, and he promised to help her more. She didn't know if she could believe him. And he wasn't human? She tried to process everything. He was alive, he was immortal, and he obviously hadn't aged a day. He looked exactly like she remembered him, though a bit skinnier, and his eyes were darker, more tired. She wasn't surprised. Her own had done the same thing. She changed into the new clothes. They fit perfectly. She brought the towel to her hair and tried to dry it off a little more. She smiled at her reflection. She looked almost normal. She walked out of the bathroom and spun around, smiling at Gil.

"What do you think?"

Gil smiled, nodding. He stood, walking up to her, "You know, without all that makeup on your face, you look a lot like your mother."

"Really?" Gisela tried to hide the excitement in her voice.

Gil nodded, "Yeah. For sure. Now, food. If anyone asks, you're my little sister, ok?"

Gisela smiled, "So you're adopting me?"

Gil laughed, "Sure."

Gisela smiled still, putting her arm around his as he offered it.

"Anywhere, in particular, you'd like to eat?"

Gisela shook her head, "I know a few places where I don't want to eat… they… know me…"

"Well, we won't go there then. Where wouldn't you be recognized?"

"Just about anywhere on the far northeast side of the city."

"Then we'll go there," Gil nodded, opening the hotel room door for her.

…

"Hey!" Germany ran after Italy as the redhead kicked the football away from him.

"Catch me if you can, former champion!" Italy laughed.

"Mph…" Germany tried to cut Italy off, failing as Italy kicked the ball to his brother.

"Got it! We're better than you, Germany!" Romano smirked, running towards the goal where England guarded the rope that served as the goal line.

"Non!" France ran in and kicked the ball away from Romano, just as he went to make the goal.

Romano fell flat on his back and swore at France, who was busy trying to keep the ball away from Italy again.

France kicked the ball to Germany.

"Who won the World Championship again, Romano?" Germany grinned, kicking mid-field towards the goal guarded by Spain.

Spain blocked it, earning a cheer from the Italy brothers. The cheering silenced suddenly as Germany dropped to his knees, falling forward on his hands, coughing hard.

"Germany!" Italy rushed forwards, kneeling in front of the bigger country, putting his hands on his shoulders, "Germany, Germany are you ok? Germany?"

Germany brought his hand to his mouth, pulling it away, closing his eyes hard as he saw blood. He wiped his hand on the grass, hoping Italy didn't see it.

"Germany…" Italy whispered, putting his hand on Germany's pulling it up to see the residual blood between his fingers, "Germany…?"

Germany looked up at him, licking the blood off his lips.

The others had gathered around them, worried.

Germany stood slowly, looking around at all of them, and finally back at Italy's terrified face. "I'm fine." He nodded, his voice hoarse from coughing. He cleared his throat, trying again, "I'm fine!" That was better. His voice was stronger, clearer. He tried to hide how tired he was.

"Germany, you don't have to pretend…" France put his hand on the man's shoulder, "If you're not all right-"

"I'm fine! But… I don't want to play anymore, I-" He stopped, turning to look as a car drove up next to the field. Three men walked out, one of them was one of Germany's bosses, the other two his bodyguards.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt," the political leader walked up to the group of countries, which parted to let him get to Germany. He extended his hand to the country, who shook it.

"Yes, sir?" Germany stood straighter, forcing himself to look stronger than he felt. He felt sick.

"I think it goes without saying that you're needed back at work. We'll have a suit sent over for you, come with us right away, please."

Germany nodded, glancing back at the others as he walked behind the man. He was more worried than he would admit. Things weren't going well.

Italy grabbed Romano and hugged him, burying his face on his brother's shoulder, trying not to cry.

"Really Feli?" Romano rolled his eyes but hugged back.

France glanced at England, worried, "Does America know what's going on?"

England shook his head, "No… but I don't know if he has time to do anything about it… none of us do. Germany can handle this by himself."

"Maybe our countries can't help, but we can, right?" Italy looked around at all of them.

"You know that's not how this works. He'll be fine. They'll figure it out…" Spain said kindly, putting his hand on Italy's shoulder.

"Are you sure about that?" Romano asked, looking up at Spain.

"Lovi, stop being so negative…" France said, annoyed, "Italy needs encouragement, not whatever you think that was." France sighed, putting his hand on Italy's back and pulling the little redhead into a hug, "Sh… sh… he'll be ok…" he rubbed Italy's back as he cried.

…

Germany stayed silent, looking out the window, away from the political leader who sat across from him. He felt awkward in his soccer clothes. He wanted his suit. He knew they'd have it there, but he didn't like being seen like this by any of the politicians. He crossed his arms over his stomach, trying to make it look casual. He pressed into his ribs, trying to make the sick feeling go away. It wouldn't go away. He swallowed hard, feeling sweat drip down the back of his neck. Whether it was from the game or the pain he wasn't entirely sure.

"This is about RAF, isn't it?" He asked finally, worried by the trembling in his voice. He cleared his throat again, hoping it would steady it.

The leader nodded, "As you know, the Red Army Faction is becoming something of a problem."

Germany nodded back, "What are we going to do about it?"

"That's what we're going to discuss. They've made several attacks now. Are you all right?"

Germany nodded again, "Don't worry about me. Have they changed any of their demands, or… their… propaganda?"

"What, that we're all Nazis? No. Still the same."

"Do they have any idea who I am?" Germany asked, concerned.

"It doesn't appear that they do."

Germany nodded again, with a sigh of relief, "Good." He looked out the window again as the car stopped at a sign. His eyes widened suddenly as a car sped towards them. "LOOK OUT-"

…

Gil led Gisela back into her room, smiling kindly, "I'll talk to you in the morning, Gisela."

She smiled back at him, then looked away, "And… you're sure you don't want anything in return for this? I'm quite good at-"

"Nein!" he cut her off, shaking his head, "Nothing. Ever. Ok?"

She smiled again, her eyes welling up with tears. She nodded, "Danke…" she hugged him.

He hugged back with a sigh, "What happened to you…?" he didn't realize he said it out loud until she pulled away from the hug, wrapped her arms around herself, bit her lip, and looked down. "I'm sorry you don't have to-"

"I ran away when mother died. I was 17…" She sighed, walking to the bed and sitting down.

Gil walked to the chair by the window, and sat down, drawing the shades. He looked at her, nodding for her to continue, "Only if you want to tell me."

She sighed deeply, and looked up at him, "When mama died… Cort and I didn't know what to do… he was working in one of the hotels in the West, and he was doing a good job. He became one of the assistant hotel managers, and mama and I were proud of him… When she died Cort promised to take care of me but… every time I looked at him I just saw Mama and Adelaide and… it was stupid and selfish, but I ran away… I figured he'd be fine, but… I do regret it. Everyday…" She looked down again, continuing, "I got a job… at um… one of the clubs… I… I said I was 18, I… I thought it would be an easy job, something I could do…" She shrugged, picking at her bracelets, "I know it's illegal here… but the pay is better. It _makes_ the pay better… It's dangerous, but when has my life not been dangerous?" She rolled her eyes, and looked back at Gil, "I don't love my life, Gil, but it's the life I have. I'm probably going to die of some horrible disease way too young, but… what am I supposed to do? Go back west? That's going to work…" She rolled her eyes again, "I'm stuck here again… I've resigned myself to that. And whatever Cort is doing he's better off without me."

"That's not true," Gil shook his head, "He misses you."

Gisela stared at him for a moment, "You've seen him? Oh, Gil is he all right? What's he doing now? He's alive? He's all right, isn't he?"

Gil nodded with a sigh, "I think so, yes… uh… I 'm not entirely sure how to say this…"

Gisela shook her head, "Gil, what is it…?"

Gil sighed, "Cort was a spy for my brother, West Germany, (yes, he's my brother, and yes, there are personifications for all the countries), and uh… well, he shot me. 4 times actually…"

"What!? My brother shot you?" Gisela stood, horrified.

"I did kind of deserve it…"

She sat back down, shrugging, "I'm not going to argue."

Gil smirked, "Anyway… he took me to a hospital and Russia found us."

Gisela froze, "R-Russia?"

Gil nodded, "You've seen him. He was the one who… ordered me to…"

"Did he hurt Cort? Gil, please tell me he didn't hurt my brother…" She fought tears.

Gil shook his head, "He shot his leg… several times… I'm sure Cort is fine, but… I don't know if he kept that leg… it uh… I don't Russia wanted those injuries to be fixable…" Gil set his jaw, angry, "But I'm sure Cort survived, he's a tough kid, and those injuries weren't life threatening I'm sure."

Gisela leaned over, putting her face in her hands, sobbing.

"He went back over the wall… Russia let him go. He's back with West now…" Gil stood, sitting next to Gisela, hugging her, "Sh… sh… I'm so sorry…"

Gisela looked up at him, brushing her tears away, "Thank you, for telling me… for helping me…"

Gil sighed, "I'm going to get you back over the wall. I'm going to make sure you're safe. Ok?"

She looked up at him. She couldn't believe him, but she nodded, "Ok."

"Now, Schlaf gut (sleep well), and I'll see you tomorrow, Tulpe."

Gisela smiled, giggling, "Tulip? Why?"

Gil shrugged, "I don't know, it seemed cute. Innocent?"

Gisela grinned nodding, "I like it."

"Perfect. Gute Nacht, Tulpe," he stood, walking out the door.

Gisela put her head in her hands again, breathing hard, gasping as she sobbed. How could he be helping her? She couldn't trust him... could she? He murdered her sister, but he wasn't evil… _He was forced to kill her. He didn't want to, he loved her…_ She tried to reason with herself. She felt sick. What was happening? But he said he'd help her, that he'd get her back to her brother… her brother… was he all right? Really? Did he lose that leg? How badly did Russia hurt him? What was he like? Was he still spying? Where did he learn to shoot? She had too many questions… and nowhere near enough answers.

…

Germany groaned, trying to open his eyes. Black fabric. He was instantly awake. He struggled, realizing he was bound to a chair. He stopped moving, listening. There was almost no sound in the room, just the faint buzzing of a light he couldn't see. The air felt damp.

"Hallo?" he said. The room didn't sound terribly small, but not large. He moved his feet, his tennis shoes rubbing against the hard ground. _Concrete?_ He struggled again, managing to pull the chair forward a little, hearing the wood scrape the floor. _Definitely concrete. A bunker?_ "Hallo?" He called again.

He heard a lighter, then smelled smoke.

"Who are you?" he asked calmly. He stopped struggling, sitting up straight, trying to look stronger than he felt, with no hint of fear.

"If I tell you who I am," A voice came from the darkness. It was rough but cool, "You'll tell me who you are. Deal?"

Germany nodded, "Deal."

"I represent RAF, at least to you."

Germany heard another chair creek in the corner of the room. The room was smaller than he'd estimated originally, the smell of smoke was relatively strong.

"Now," The voice said, slightly farther away. Germany figured the man had sat back in his chair, "You were the only one to survive that car crash. Who are you?"

Germany sighed, "My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt," he didn't see any point in lying.

"I've never heard of you. You must be important…"

Germany shivered, he could hear a smile in the man's voice, "What am I supposed to call you?" he asked.

"Call me RAF. That's who I am to you."

Germany nodded, "All right, RAF, why am I here? And what are you planning to do with me?"

He heard the man's clothes move, figuring he shrugged. He was wearing a leather jacket and a tee shirt? Germany couldn't quite make out the second fabric.

"That, my friend, depends a lot on you…"

"Oh?" Germany forced himself not to swallow hard, feeling sweat dripping down his neck again. He tried to breathe normally, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

"Just how important are you to the leaders of the country?"

Germany resisted the urge to smile, "Not very. I'm not worth anything to them." He tried it. Maybe they'd shoot him, toss him somewhere, and he could wake up and get back home like nothing happened…

The man laughed, "You know, I reeeeeeealy don't believe you."

Germany could hear the smile in the man's voice. He jumped, mentally kicking himself for it, as the man stood and walked up to him slowly, walking around behind him. Germany forced himself not to struggle again as he heard the soft ring of a knife being pulled from its sheath. He winced as the man laid the knife against the side of his face.

"How about this?"

Germany shivered again, the man was so close he could feel his breath on the back of his neck.

"You don't lie to me…" the man traced the knife down Germany's neck, lifting his chin with it, "And you keep all your fingers? How does that sound?"

Germany winced as he felt the tip of the knife digging into his jaw and the itch of a drop of blood running down his neck.

"Do you accept those terms?" The man smiled, laying the knife on Germany's cheek again.

"J-Ja…" Germany whispered, failing to hide the fear in his voice. He wasn't worried about injury, he could heal, but it sounded like an experience he could live without.

"Good."

Germany tried to hide his relief as the man brought the knife away from his face and sat back down in the chair.

"Now, how valuable to the government are you?"

Germany said nothing for a moment, struggling a little as the man stood, "Very…" He kept his eyes straight ahead, hearing the man sit back down, "I'm very important… Important enough for them to come get me while I was obviously not at work…" He almost growled. Being kidnapped was humiliating enough but in his soccer clothes? Kidnapped…. the word stuck in his mind. Captured? Hostage? He didn't know what word he wanted to use. None of them sounded good, and all of them sounded potentially painful.

"By now, you've probably figured that you're in a concrete bunker."

Germany nodded at the confirmation of his previous thought, "What are you going to do with me?" he asked again.

"Well first, I'm going to find out how valuable you really are to them…"

Germany listened as the man stood and walked to the back of the room towards what he assumed was the door. He didn't like that the door was behind him. Even tied and blindfolded he would rather face his enemy.

"Then we'll see."

"'We'll see' what?"

"If they get you back in one piece or not."

Germany winced as the door closed and the room fell silent again. He struggled at the cords again, knowing he wasn't going to be able to break them. He stopped finally, sitting back in the chair.

 _Well isn't this just great…_

* * *

 _A/N:_ since things are going relatively well for Gil right now... Germany has his own mess to deal with back in West Berlin. RAF was a real problem for a while in West Germany, and I had a friend from Germany mention it to me as a potential plot point. I hadn't really heard about them since I live in America, and when I researched, I decided I must use it! (also I haven't seen any other fics ever talk about it... so here I go!) Also, cameos by quite a few of the other counties in here! (hi France, England, Spain, and Romano!) and more Gil talking to Gisela... which is fun/sad... poor Gisela... *hugs her* I think she would be conflicted... but at the same time, who else does she have to trust? :/

As always, I LOVE reading your reviews and replying to them! Thank you so much to all the regular reviewers! You always make my day! (or night... since I upload at ridiculous hours of the night/morning... =_=) Yes, it really is midnight. I don't live in a timezone where it's a relatively normal time of the night. Because all the best writing happens late at night guys! Anyway, cookies and hugs and lemonade for you all!


	55. Chapter 55: Safe

Chapter 55

Germany jumped as the door behind him opened. The shoes on the concrete sounded heavy. Boots? He was fairly sure the person was a man, but it didn't sound like the same steps as before. He forced himself to breathe normally as the person sat across from him on the other chair.

"So," the person spoke. It was a younger man, though his voice was still rough, "Ludwig Beilschmidt, it seems you are, in fact, as important as you say you are."

Germany jumped again as the door opened once more. Several people came inside the room. He heard the clicking of metal against metal. They brought something in front of him, and he heard something hit the concrete, then more metallic clicking. Something turning? Snaps, more clicks…

"Do it," The voice of the same man as before, the older man, barked the order.

Germany struggled suddenly as he felt hands on his shoulders and hands. They were untying him? Maybe he had a chance… He froze, hearing the very familiar sound of a gun. He figured it was aimed at him.

"Fight back, and I shoot," the older man's voice said flatly.

Germany nodded, not moving as his hands and legs were untied. He started struggling a little as he felt their hands on his shirt. He shook his head, ripping off the blindfold. The dim light almost blinded him. He looked around, trying to quickly figure out how many enemies he would have to fight. They'd set up a camera, he couldn't tell if it was running. There were four men and two women, three men near him. The man from before held a gun aiming towards his chest. He didn't have time to take anything else in. He immediately started fighting the four people around him, glancing at the girl who ran the camera. He was sure it was on. He elbowed one of the men in the face, struggling as they grabbed him. He was stronger than they were. He gasped suddenly, staggering back. He looked down at his chest as blood starting soaking through his shirt. It barely hurt. He kept fighting. Three more shots and he was down, flat on his back, nearly hitting his head on the concrete. He looked up, gasping, choking a little. He rolled onto his side, coughing hard, looking up at the faces of his captors. They were shocked. He forced himself not to cry out in pain as the man from before emptied the rest of his gun into his chest. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes in pain. He clutched at his chest. He hadn't counted the bullets, but he knew there were enough to raise questions he wasn't going to answer. He looked up at the face of the man who shot him as he walked over, kneeling beside him.

"Who are you?" The man whispered, shock, and a hint of fear in his voice.

Germany opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't get words out. Pain was overwhelming. He turned his head, gasping for breath, closing his eyes as the relief of unconsciousness started to take over.

…

Gil knocked on the door of Gisela's hotel room, taking a deep breath, hoping she was still there.

There was a long pause before she opened the door timidly. She smiled at him, "Gil."

Gil smiled back, "Gisela. Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, Danke," she opened the door more fully, motioning him inside the room.

Gil sat down in the chair beside the window again, "So, we need a plan."

"You get to the point don't you?" she sighed, sitting across from him, a small table between them.

Gil nodded, "Unless there's anything else you have to tell me."

She shook her head, "No, I guess… I guess the plan is the best thing we have to talk about…"

Gil sighed, "You sure?"

Gisela said nothing for a moment, "You know, I really don't know anything about you. Except that you're a literal country, you want to help me… and… everything from before…"

Gil sighed again, "Ok, what do you want to know?"

"Is your name really Gilbert?"

Gil nodded, "Mmmhmm."

"What do you… like? I don't know…" She looked away, picking at her bracelets, pulling her feet under her chair. She wasn't really sure how to talk to someone who'd been alive for hundreds of years.

Gil smiled, "I like… weapons of all kinds… history, especially if it involves me of course…" he thought for a moment, "Anything that has to do with military strategy, horses, being outside… camping I guess… oh, and birds. I love birds, I have one actually."

"You have a bird?" Gisela grinned, looking at him.

Gil nodded, smiling, "Yeah, his name is, don't laugh, Gilbird."

"You named your bird after yourself?" Gisela rolled her eyes.

"I was a kid when I named him! A dumb kid," Gil smiled.

"Can I meet him? Gilbird I mean?" Gisela smiled.

Gil sighed, his smile fading suddenly, "I hope so. He lives with my brother actually… across the wall…"

"How long has it been since you saw him?" Gisela asked sadly.

Gil didn't answer, "Anyway, we really should talk about the plan," he leaned forward on his elbows on the table, "It's not going to be easy…"

"I uh… know a few people business men from the West…"

Gil said nothing. He didn't think he wanted to ask anyone she knew for help.

"They might be willing to get me across… for the right price…" She looked down.

"I'm a country, I can pay you need."

She looked up at him, her eyes speaking for her, "Gil… that's not what I-"

"I'm fully aware that's not what you meant, but you're done. You're done, I'm not letting you. I'll pay whatever money this businessman wants to get you across. What's his name?"

"I don't know his real name… he never used it."

Gil sighed, "Then how is he supposed to help?"

"I could probably find him."

"Nein. Nein. You can't, I'm not letting you."

"I'm not asking your permission," Gisela stood, "If you really think this is my best chance…"

"Nein. I'll find another way," Gil stood, walking up to her, "I will, I promise."

Gisela said nothing, looking away, "Gil I just want to go home…"

Gil pulled her into a hug as she started crying. He wasn't sure if she was trying to be manipulative, or if she was genuinely upset, but he didn't care. He hated seeing girl's cry.

…

Italy bit his lip, adjusting his suit, pulling the jacket down. He took a deep breath, reaching up to knock on the giant dark-stain wood door.

The door opened, and a tall security guard looked down at the redhead.

"This meeting is off limits," the man said simply.

"I…" Italy forced his voice to steady, "I don't care. I want to help."

The man started to close the door.

"Wait!" Italy tried to push his way in, "Let me help!"

"Geier!" A man's voice called from inside the room, "Who's there?"

"Feliciano Vargas!" Italy said, a little out of breath from trying to fight his way through the door.

"Let him through the door, Geier!"

Italy stood straight, adjusting his suit again, and walked through, motioned inside by the guard, who closed the door behind him. He swallowed hard as all eyes turned to him, away from a black screen.

"I'm sorry, North Italy, we didn't expect you, is… anyone else coming?"

Italy shook his head, "No… um… just me. I'm sorry. I don't come here as North Italy, just… just as Feliciano Vargas… Ludwig Beilschmidt is my friend… and…" Italy stopped, looking around the room. He didn't see Ludwig, "Where…"

The men in the room looked at each other, before one of them stood, walking up to Italy and putting his hand on his shoulder, "Feliciano, I think it's best you come sit down."

Italy didn't move, staring up at him, "Where's Ludwig… where is he, what happened…" he allowed himself to be led to an empty chair and sat down, looking around at the faces of the men in front of him. "Where's Ludwig?" he asked again, forcing his voice to stay steady.

"Ludwig has been captured by the RAF."

Italy gasped, bringing his hands up to cover his mouth. He shook his head, letting his hands fall back onto the table. He looked at the leader of the meeting, "And you're going to get him back, right?"

"We're doing everything we can…"

Italy nodded, accepting the glass of water handed to him by one of the other attendees with a grateful nod.

"We have received a video from the RAF, we were about to watch it. You don't have to stay, North Italy, your country has nothing to do with this."

"I said I'm not here for my country, I'm here for my friend. I promise you I'm here only as Feliciano Vargas, not North Italy… please… I'm going to help!" he looked up at the screen. He brought his hands under the table, gripping the sides of his pants, clutching the fabric like it could make him less terrified. He closed his eyes as the video opened. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the screen. He bit his lip, not letting himself cry, not in front of this many people. Germany was tied to a chair, blindfolded and struggling. Italy shook his head, glancing at the other political leaders as they whispered to each other, all watching. He looked back up at the screen, shaking his head as they untied Germany's hands. _Don't fight back… please don't fight back…_ He covered his mouth again to hide the half choked scream as he saw bullets tear through Germany's chest and the man fell to the ground. The screen went blank for a second, then came back.

Italy watched, terrified.

Germany was again bound to the chair again, this time without a blindfold. His shirt was cut open at the front, and the half-healed bullet wounds showed on his skin. A man, who kept his face out of the frame, walked behind Germany and held up a newspaper with a date. It was from the next day, the morning they were all watching the video. The man pointed to the wounds on Germany's chest and spoke in a voice that was meant to hide his own.

"To the government of West Germany. Explain This." the man took a knife and laid it on Germany's chest.

Italy gasped again, keeping his hands up to his mouth, trying not to show how truly terrified he was. _Please don't…_

The man cut across Germany's chest, deep enough to draw blood. Germany didn't even wince.

Italy watched in horror as the man wiped the blood away, and the camera got closer. He bit his lip, as the very shallow cut visibly started to heal, scabbing over far too quickly. Italy looked back at the other government leaders as the man on the video spoke again.

"Who is this man? _What_ is this man? You're going to explain, or I'm going to find out what he can, and cannot heal from." The man grabbed Germany's ear, laying the knife against the top of it, pressing down hard enough to draw blood.

Italy shook his head, looking away as he saw fear flash in Germany's eyes for a second before he forced himself to be calm again. Italy looked back up as the man stopped, pulling the knife away.

"You have until tomorrow at noon to tell me who this man is, otherwise I'm going to find out myself." The man walked towards the camera and the video cut off.

Italy leaned forward, covering his mouth. He felt sick. He took another drink of the water he'd been given, trying to calm down, trying to keep his breathing from speeding up. He felt panicked. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe. Not Germany. They couldn't hurt him. They couldn't… he looked up at the men around the table as everything erupted suddenly from the former silence. Everyone was talking, everyone trying to think of a plan, trying to help, trying to say everything would be ok, or it wouldn't be ok.

 _We can't tell them… we can't…_ Italy shook his head, _but if we don't…_ He looked at the leader of the meeting, who sat silently at the end of the table with his head in his hands.

Finally, the man called for quiet. "We'll figure this out. We will stop them. We not allow them to… torture Ludwig. We'll get him back, in one piece, and we'll do it quickly. Get a team on that video. I want to know where he is. Now!"

Everyone stood except Italy and the main leader, everyone quickly moving to do what needed to be done. Silence fell in the room again as they all left, leaving only the leader and Italy still seated.

"Feliciano? Are you all right?"

Italy still looked at the screen, a tear rolling down his cheek, "I don't…" he forced himself to look away, clearing his throat and standing, "I'll be all right when we get him back. Just tell me what I can do to help."

"Why don't you help the video crew. You know about being a country, perhaps you can tell what condition he's in," the man nodded, looking at Italy compassionately.

Italy nodded, turning towards the door.

"Feliciano?"

"Si?" Italy turned, looking back at the man.

"You and Germany, you're very good friends, aren't you?"

Italy nodded, "Si. Yes, very good friends… I care very much about him. I want him safe. That's all that matters, I just want him safe. And I'll do whatever I have to do to make sure that happens. I just need him safe…"

* * *

A/N: A mid-day chapter for you all! Sorry I didn't get one uploaded last night! I spent some time with family and then I was super tired... anyway, most of this chapter is about West Germany! Though Gil and Gisela are trying to figure out what to do... (and mentions of Gilbird ftw!) Anyway, my friend from Germany, Eva, has been giving me all the good ideas for the RAF side of the story! Thank you! *hugs*

As always, reviews are appreciated so much! We're about to hit 300! WOOHOOO! Who will be the 300th reviewer... hmmmmmmmm... Cookies and candy and all things lovely for all of you! Thank you all for reading!


	56. Chapter 56: Better

Chapter 56

Gil walked down the hallway of the government building looking at no one, holding his head high, taking firm, strong steps. He smirked, he felt powerful here. This was _his_ city. Russia wasn't there. He owned the place. These were his men. And, despite having to listen to his bosses, it was his country. He walked past several offices, barely glancing inside, when he stopped suddenly, taking a few steps back and looking in at the door. Projected onto a screen was a video.

"Nein…" Prussia whispered, shaking his head. He stepped forward into the room, "What is that?" he nodded towards the screen.

The two soldiers in the room stood to attention, while the men in the dark suits, watching the video, barely looked up at him.

"This," one of the men said, emotionless cold in his voice, "Is a ransom video for your brother, GDR."

Prussia set his jaw, clenching his hands into fists behind his back, "What did you say?"

"RAF has your brother, apparently. We didn't expect this development, but we'll take it."

Prussia glanced at the screen again, trying to hide his horror at the sight of a knife against his brother's ear. Were those bullet wounds in his chest? Prussia looked back at the men sitting in their chairs, watching emotionlessly. He turned back and walked out of the room and down the hall. He walked straight to the room of his boss and pulled out his gun.

"Tell them to let my brother go, or I will not hesitate to kill you." He held the gun steadily at the man's face, his finger on the trigger.

The man leaned back in his chair, raising his hands with a smile, "I don't control RAF."

"Nein, you just fund them. Tell them that stops unless they let him go!"

"You should remember that he's your enemy-"

"My brother. is not. my enemy." Prussia's voice grew low and hot as he clenched his free hand into a fist.

"Well, he's mine," the man shrugged.

Prussia moved his hand to reemphasize the gun, "Tell them. To stay away from my brother."

"Why would I do that, GDR, your brother is still a Nazi."

"Nein!" Prussia snapped, "Why would you say that? My brother is rebuilding his country while I'm stuck here- HEY!"

Prussia stopped, looking down at the folder his boss had flipped open. The photograph was grainy, the color skewed by the flash that was almost too bright. His brother's hair could be seen in the top right corner, a hand pushing his head down. His shoulder, in the lower left corner, was also held down, and in the center right side of the photograph, was the scar. The dark, rough, deep Hakenkreuz (swastika) scar. A permanent mark on his brother's body of the one thing he hadn't been able to protect him from.

Gil's hands shook. He looked up, realizing the gun had been pushed down as his boss stood.

"GDR… your brother is not a good man."

Gil shook his head, "You're wrong. I'm the one who's not a good man," he brought the gun forward again and fired through his boss's arm. He winced as the pain of the bullet tore through his own arm. He ignored it, looking steadily at the bleeding man in front of him.

"Tell. RAF. To stand. Down," Gil held the gun to the man's head again.

"It's not that simple, GDR. I can't control them!"

"Well, what do they want! What are their demands?" Gil snapped, staring down at the man, trying not to look at the photograph of his brother's back on the desk.

"Their immediate demands… are knowing who and what your brother is."

Gil set his jaw, "Done. Don't tell them who sent the information, only that it was sent. Whatever they want to know, I'll tell them."

"Doesn't that betray all of you?" his boss asked, his voice shaking with pain.

Gil wasn't sure if his question was threatening, or genuine, "I don't care, he's my BROTHER!"

Gil pulled his gun away, his hands still shaking. He heard the door open behind him and three security guards grabbed his arms. He fought, struggling hard, trying to elbow one of them in the face before he felt a gun pressed against his head. He looked up at his boss. He wasn't scared, he was angry.

"Just, get him out of here," his boss said.

Gil struggled again, wincing as he felt the gun press closer into the back of his neck.

"I'll figure out later if I call Russia or not."

Gil looked up at him, struggling harder, not caring if they shot him. He felt the side of the gun strike the back of his head before he blacked out.

…

"Liet?" Poland walked into the room, his step firmer, surer.

Lithuania looked up, disoriented suddenly. He'd fallen asleep at his desk again. He turned to look at Poland, who held out a brush.

"Brush my hair?" Poland turned around and sat on the ground in front of Lithuania, having barely phrased it as a question.

The dark-haired country smiled slightly, happy to see Poland returning to his usual self. He took the brush from Poland and started running in through the soft blonde hair.

"I had an ok day today, Liet." Poland smiled, sighing deeply, relaxing as the brush touched his head. It was comforting.

Lithuania smiled, "That's good."

"What about you?" Poland turned a little, looking up at his friend.

"I can't brush your hair if you don't sit still," Lithuania avoided Poland's question.

Poland turned to look straight ahead again, letting Lithuania brush his hair. It made him sleepy, "I like this, Liet…" he smiled sadly.

"Like what? Me brushing your hair?" Lithuania asked, continuing.

"Yeah… but like, more than that… I like… I like having a conversation where we're not talking about anything… bad… or… or painful… just brushing my hair… just talking…" Poland turned to look up at Lithuania again, "It's almost like it used to be, huh?"

Lithuania smiled sadly, nodding, "Yeah. Yeah, almost."

Poland sighed, "I mean… I know it's never going to be exactly the same… but almost!" he smiled.

Lithuania smiled, nodding again, "So um… what was so good about today?"

Poland turned back to looking at the wall, letting Lithuania continue brushing. "Well," he paused for a moment, thinking, "Like, I actually got to hang out with Hungary a little, I didn't see Russia at all, Ukraine made cookies, and I didn't have a single panic attack! Not even when Hungary dropped a metal tray and it made a really loud noise." Poland smiled.

"I'm proud of you," Lithuania smiled back, "You're getting much better."

"Mmmhmm," Poland grinned, "Russia's been leaving me alone a lot more recently… Hungary too. I don't think he likes us very much, and I'm pretty ok with that."

Lithuania smiled again, "It's probably because both of your people have been fighting back, keeping him from having too much control. That probably makes him mad actually…"

"Well he hasn't done anything to me about it, so I don't care how mad he gets!" Poland smiled. He stopped suddenly, turning around to look at Lithuania, putting his hand on his friend's knee, "Liet, don't tell me he's been worse to you because of us…"

Lithuania shook his head, "No. No, not at all… he's… he hadn't been as bad lately."

"Maybe he's drinking less," Poland shrugged.

"I highly doubt that…" Lithuania rolled his eyes, glancing up at the door.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, the only sound in the room dulling to the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall, and the sound of the brush running through Poland's hair.

"Liet…?" Poland broke the silence, his voice quieter, more contemplative than before.

"Yes, Felek?" Lithuania smiled gently.

"I think we're going to be ok… like… I actually think we might be ok…"

Lithuania didn't answer, looking down at Poland's hair.

Poland turned around, looking up at Lithuania again, resting his hands on his friend's knee, "I know. I know it sucks… but I think we're going to be ok. Things are going to get better. If I can go a night without nightmares, then anything can get better."

"You what?" Lithuania looked at him, shocked.

Poland smiled, "No nightmares last night."

Lithuania stood, helping Poland to his feet, staring at him, "Really?"

Poland grinned, nodding, "Yeah. Really. No nightmares."

They looked at each other for a second before Poland threw his arms around Lithuania, trying to keep back tears.

Lithuania hugged him tightly. He hadn't felt genuinely happy in a long time. He'd missed it. It felt good to be happy, even for just a little while.

…

"No, I'm NOT giving up!" Italy slammed his fist on the table, looking at the other's faces.

France looked to England, then back to Italy, "Feli, this isn't your country, this isn't your fight. You can't get involved…"

"That's my best friend they have tied to a chair! I can't just let this happen! I can't and I won't! I have to help, even if I can't do very much…"

"And what exactly are you going to try and do, Feli?" Romano asked, crossing his arms over his chest, "It's not gonna help."

"Lovi…" Spain looked at him disapprovingly.

"What? It's true? Germany's toast!"

Italy glared at his brother, "How could you say something like that…?"

"What? It's probably true!" Romano shrugged.

"I don't care if it's probably true, I'm getting him back! Prussia still needs him, after all. Or have you all given up on him too!?"

There was silence as everyone looked around the room at each other awkwardly, trying to figure out what to say.

"Oh, you have given up on him…" Italy shook his head, "Why? I mean… I'm terrified of Russia too, but… but RAF isn't Russia! They're just humans! If we all work together we could-"

"I'm sorry, Feli," England stood, shaking his head, "It's not our problem. We have enough to deal with in our own countries right now. We can't just all leave to go help Germany."

France sighed, putting his hand on Italy's shoulder, "Look, I know he's your best friend, and you care about him very much, and so do I, and his brother even more so… but England is right. We have to take care of our own people first. It's our duty as countries… Italy we can't… no matter what we would like to do…"

"But there has to be a way…"

"Nope," Romano stood, walking towards the door, "Have fun crying about it," he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Italy watched Romano leave, shocked. He looked back at France, "But… but they're hurting him…"

"I'm sure his government will figure out how to get him back…" France sighed, rubbing Italy's back gently, comfortingly.

"And what if they don't!" Italy pushed France's arm away, looking around at everyone again, "RAF wants to know _what_ Germany is… if they find out, none of us are safe. This _does_ concern us. We have to get involved, we can't let them find out that we exist… right?"

France looked up at England, his expression changing from compassion to worry, "Arthur, Feli's right, that does change things…"

England growled, his distinctively large eyebrows pushing together as he frowned, "Well we certainly can't let them find out about the whole personified nations thing…"

"They cut him and he healed… and they shot him and he's healing. They know he can heal, England… it's not good!" Italy shook his head, his curl swinging along.

England sighed, frustrated, "All right… we'll figure this out. Do they have any idea where he's being held?"

"A concrete bunker somewhere…" Italy sighed.

"How many bunkers are there in West Berlin? They probably wouldn't want to take him too far away…"

"There are a few…" Italy tried to think about the video. There had to be something else he heard, something else he noticed. "Dirt…" he whispered, then looked back up at England, "Dirt! There wasn't a lot of it. There wasn't a lot of dirt, and there wasn't any water damage on the walls. I don't think the bunker was underground…"

"The towers?" France asked, surprised.

"Maybe!" Italy grinned.

France looked up at England, "There were towers built before the war to protect Berlin and a few other cities from the bombings… it would be perfect for them to be using one of them now…"

"And how would they get into one of them? Aren't they being used?"

Italy shook his head, "Not really… they could maybe manage it… it would make sense…"

England nodded, "France, why don't you explore that idea. Italy, go back to Germany's government and see if there's anything else they know that could help us. Tell them we're getting involved. Not our countries, just us. Just like you told them before. All right?"

Italy nodded, "So you really are going to help?"

"Looks like we don't have much of a choice," Spain shook his head, smiling at Italy.

France smiled too, putting his arm around Italy's shoulders, "We'll get him back, don't worry, Feli. We'll get him back."

* * *

A/N: Wait? A lighter chapter? From me? Yup. XD I thought we could all use a little bit of a break... so here it is! A lighter chapter! Gil's still in trouble... (but what else is new). Germany's obviously still in danger, but things are going well for Poland for a change. And the others are going to help get Germany back! YAY!

Addressing some guest comments: I know it's rather violent... it's definitely dark, and not for everyone. I hope you're still enjoying it, however. Also, about Liet having (or seemingly not having) PTSD. He does. He definitely does. But he's still living INSIDE the nightmare... so the trauma isn't over. Just like some soldiers in the middle of a war and seeming 'fine'... his worst symptoms are going to show up later. Right now he's pushing through because he has to. Because he has to in order to survive. He still shakes when he's near Russia though and is much shyer when he's around Russia, though we haven't seen a lot of that... so yes, he has PTSD. As does basically everyone in that house at this point...

I'm writing Germany and Italy as best friends here. Very close friends. Italy hasn't done anything that I wouldn't do for my best friend, especially if we were roommates. It's canon that they're at least roommates/housemates, so I'm going with that. If Gerita shippers want to see Gerita there, then they can, but I'm writing them as best friends, not romantic interests. Similar to how I'm writing Lithuania and Poland. Very close, very good, best friends who would literally die for each other, but not lovers.

Kattie: Thank you for the kinder egg! I've always wanted to try one! It's true that they aren't legal here... maybe next time I'm in Canada or Europe... (probably Canada sooner than Europe...)

As always, I LOOOOOOVE reading your reviews! 290! So close guys! Who will be the 300th... XD XD XD XD (special 'prize' coming for the 300th commenter... perhaps... *Wink*)


	57. Chapter 57: Sunrise

Chapter 57

A sliver of light broke the darkness of the room where Gil was being held as the door opened. The unused office was mostly empty, with only two chairs, an old lamp, and a few pieces of wood and concrete bricks. Gil's hands were cuffed behind his back. He stood, trying to think of some plan to get out of the situation he found himself in. He turned to the door, looking away as his boss walked in with two guards. The man's arm was wrapped and in a sling. He forced himself not to smile. It gave him more satisfaction than he knew it should. He watched the man sit down out of the corner of his eye, not turning towards him.

One of the guards clicked on the lamp sitting in the corner. Gil was surprised it worked. He hadn't tried it, darkness was more comfortable, it didn't hurt his eyes. He blinked in the sudden light, not turning to look at his boss.

"Well?" Gil asked, coldly, "What are you going to do with me?"

"What are you willing to do to help your brother?"

Gil looked back at the man, his expression curious, but cautious. He didn't trust him. "Anything," he chose to answer honestly.

"Good," The man smiled, "Then I won't call Russia. Here, sit." he motioned to the chair across from him.

Gil didn't have a chance to step towards the chair as the two guards grabbed his arms and forced him into it. He pulled away from them, giving them both his best death glare. He turned back to his boss, "I'm listening."

"Well, GDR, there are some…" The man looked up at the guards for a moment, then motioned them out of the room. Once they were alone he turned back to Gil. "This is not official, is that understood?"

Gil nodded once, leaning back in his chair. He looked into his boss's face. The man was nervous. More nervous than he would admit to. He was trying to hide it, but Gil could tell. He was too good at this. His boss couldn't hide it. He let the man continue.

"I have a few… personal enemies that I need you to care of. Unfortunately for you, you need me to keep quiet about your little outburst, and you're also asking me to help your brother, and that means I hold the cards… only I can't fire the gun. But you can…"

Gil smirked, looking at his boss, shaking his head, "Oh really? And you'll help my little brother?"

The man nodded, looking into Gil's face.

Gil grinned, leaning forwards, "Then give me the gun." he sat back again, looking at his boss's face. He saw relief, and fear. Gil smiled again. So he wasn't any less intimidating than before. That was comforting.

"I'll have everything you need sent to your hotel room, along with a list. RAF's demands have to be met by noon tomorrow…" the man checked his watch, "I mean later today. It's nearly one in the morning," he looked up at Gil with a smile, "I do appreciate this, GDR. In exchange, I order RAF to release your brother, and I don't call Russia. I'm fully aware of how he treats you… and I'm sure you know he'd be less than pleased with you for this…" he motioned to his arm.

Gil set his jaw, looking into his boss's face, barely moving, just watching him.

"Once I have confirmation of their death, I protect you, and your brother. Then neither of us owe each other anything, is that understood?"

Gil nodded again, only once, "Understood, sir," he smirked, "I'd salute you, but…" he moved his arms, clicking the handcuffs.

"Don't worry, as soon as I leave this room you'll be free to go. My men will come in and unlock those. Go back to your hotel. I suggest going quickly, I have 5 names of people I need to disappear."

"Only 5?" Gil didn't look at him as the man stood.

The man didn't answer, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Gil smiled. He'd gotten to him. He stood as the guards re-entered the room. One of them grabbed his arms while they other started unlocking the cuffs. He waited until the cuffs were off before pushing both of them away. He straightened his uniform and walked back down the hall towards the car. The sooner he got started, the sooner his brother was home, nothing else mattered. He'd killed men before, never like this, but how much of a difference could there be between killing a man on a battlefield and killing a man in his bed? Except that it certainly sounded easier. But killing a man while he slept? There was nothing honorable about that. Who was he trying to fool? He hadn't done anything 'honorable' in a long time. What made this any different? He didn't like it. but he didn't have any other choice. He tossed the keys to the valet as he walked into the hotel, and up to his room. There was already a locked case on his bed. He inspected it.

"Really?" he sighed, trying to look for a key. He found a note taped to the bottom of the case.

 _Your new least-favorite year_

Gil rolled his eyes, looking back at the combination lock.

 _1961_

The lock snapped open and Gil looked into the case. He smirked. A Walther PPK-L. He picked it up, his smile grew. It felt like it had been molded his grip, and it was made for a left handed shooter. He held it up, turning it in his hands. It felt right, like part of his arm.

He looked back into the case. The only thing left inside was a list. Five names. He read them and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He didn't want to do this. The image of his brother tied to a chair came into focus. He couldn't do that to his brother. He looked up, set the gun down in the case, and walked to his closet, starting to unbutton his military jacket, glancing at the syringe and vial sitting at the top of his suitcase. He hung up his jacket and picked up the needle.

…

Italy looked up suddenly, feeling a hand on his shoulder. The screen in front of him was black. He turned to see France looking down at him. The man's face was concerned, his blond curls pulled back with a black ribbon at the base of his neck.

"Feli?" France asked kindly, kneeling beside the chair, looking up at Italy, keeping his hand on the smaller country's arm, "How many times have you watched that video now?"

Italy sighed, shaking his head, "I lost count?"

France sighed back, "You should go to sleep. It's almost three in the morning…"

"You're not asleep," Italy turned back to the screen, standing to walk back to the projector.

"You're not going to find anything else in the video, Ita…" France followed him, ignoring Italy's previous statement. He laid his hand on the little country's shoulder again, pulling him away from the projector gently, "You need to sleep. You'll be more help to him if you sleep."

"And what about you?" Italy snapped, "You're not asleep. You're working to help him, aren't you?"

France sighed, looking at Italy for a moment before nodding.

"And how is that going?" Italy bit his lip, "Please tell me you have more than I do because…" He shook his head, looking down.

"I may have something… maybe…" France sighed again.

"What?" Italy looked up at him, putting his hands on France's arms, his eyes lighting up with hope, "Do you know where he is?"

"I think so. I won't say where until I know for sure…"

"Why!?" Italy snapped, pulling away from France, angry.

"Because I don't want you doing anything… that you'll regret later. I can't put you in danger too. I'm sorry, Feli…"

Italy pushed him, turning away, struggling not to cry, folding his arms around himself.

France sighed, walking around Italy, wrapping his arms around Italy, pulling him into a gentle hug, "I won't tell anyone, Ita. I promise."

Italy broke, grabbing onto France and sobbing on his shoulder. He didn't want to cry. He didn't want to feel so weak, so powerless to help. He couldn't find anything in the video that gave him more clues. They'd been careful. It made him angry. Hot, frustrated tears ran down his cheeks and he didn't try to stop them. France didn't care about tears, he wasn't afraid of them like England was.

France held Italy, letting him cry, rubbing his back gently, not saying anything, just allowing the little redhead to sob on his shoulder.

"Do you…" Italy tried to choke out the words, "We're going to find him, right? He's going to be ok… please tell me he's going to be ok…?"

France hugged him tighter, nodding, "We're going to find him. He's going to be ok. I promise he's going to be ok…"

…

Gisela walked into her hotel room, freezing suddenly, dropping her bag. Sitting in the chair by the window, facing the wall, was Gil. His shirt was covered in blood, and he held a gun in his left hand, resting it on his left leg. His hair was a mess, his cheeks stained with tears, and it was the first time she'd ever seen him wear anything other than a military uniform. He looked considerably less threatening in jeans, even with a leather jacket. She ran up to him, taking the gun from his hand and laying it on the table. She looked down at her hand, wet with blood left on the gun. She looked up into Gil's face, reaching up to touch his cheek, wiping the tears away.

He didn't look at her.

"Gil?" She whispered, bringing her other hand to his face, touching his cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears, "Gil?"

He kept his eyes on the wall.

"Are you all right? Who… who's blood is…"

"Four men," he said, still not looking at her, "Four men who I had to kill. Because that's the price for my… for my brother's safety…"

"Oh, Gil, I'm so sor-"

"That's not the problem…" Gil shook his head, still not looking at her.

Gisela said nothing, looking up at him. There was something in his eyes that scared her. A dark resignation that sent a chill down her spine.

"Gil…?"

"There were five names…" He looked down at her, grabbing his gun from the table and standing, keeping the gun at his side.

Gisela scrambled back, looking up at him, forcing herself not to scream.

Gil's hand trembled on the gun. He set it back down on the table and leaned against the wood, leaning over it, his shoulders shaking with sobs, "I can't do it… I can't… but if I don't… I can't do it…"

Gisela stood, breathing fast from fear, and slowly walked up behind him. She laid her hand on his back gently, "Gil… please… please don't… please…" Gisela slid down to the ground, gripping the fabric of Gil's jeans, looking up at him, "Please… please don't, Gil… please…"

Gil turned to look at her. He couldn't do it. He picked up the gun, turning it in his hand. He lifted Gisela into a hug, "Sh… sh…" he whispered, holding her as she sobbed on his shoulder.

"Please…"

Gil raised the gun, his hand shaking almost too much to hold the grip. He laid it against the side of her head, tears streaming down his cheeks. He felt her sobbing grow harder as she clung to him.

"Please, Gil please… please don't… kill me… please… don't… please…" She sobbed, begging, shaking.

Gil's hands shook. He held his finger against the trigger, looking up, closing his eyes, _God, I can't do this… I can't… I can't do this…_ He dropped the gun on the table, wrapping Gisela in his arms. He just held her, shaking, barely able to cry.

"I'm getting you out of here. You're leaving tonight. I can't. I can't leave you here anymore. I'm getting you out."

"How…?" She looked up, still shaking, still sobbing. She didn't know how to process everything that had just happened. He should have killed her, but he didn't. And he wanted to help her.

"They change the guards on the towers in half an hour… it's not perfect, but it just might give us enough time…"

"Time to what?"

"To run. To get you over the wall."

"What?"

"As soon as you cross the West German border they can't hurt you. The guards have to leave you alone…"

"And you?"

"I'm going to protect you."

Gisela nodded. She wasn't sure what that meant, but she accepted it.

"What do you need to bring with you?"

"Nothing."

"Then let's go," Gil nodded. He replaced the gun in the inside pocket of his jacket, zipped the leather closed and took Gisela's hand. The world moved in a blur, almost slow motion. He led Gisela down the hallway of the hotel room, through the door, and into his car. He didn't say a word as he drove towards the wall. He didn't look out the window. They were finally rebuilding the city, and most of the rubble had long since been cleared, but it didn't feel right. It barely felt like home anymore. He stopped the car a few blocks from the wall. He opened Gisela's door for her, helping her out of the car. He put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes.

"Once we get over the wall, run. I'll be right with you, but no matter what happens, run. They will shoot at us, but I'm not going to let them hurt you. Just. Keep. Running. Don't stop until you're on the other side and safe in West Germany. Do you understand?"

Gisela nodded, trembling. Her voice shook as she spoke, "And you…?"

"Never mind about me. Just keep running, ok?"

Gisela nodded again, biting her lip. She didn't like where she thought this was going. She didn't have time to argue as Prussia took her hand and started for the wall.

Prussia looked up at the towering concrete. He touched it, closing his eyes, _I'm so sorry, Brüderchen… I'm so sorry…_ He looked back at Gisela, both of them waiting. He finally heard a car pull up at the nearest tower. They were late. It didn't matter. He looked back at Gisela and nodded. Both of them scrambled over the concrete. He had to help her. They ran. There was a long pause before bullets flew past them, one of them almost hitting the back of his jacket. They ran faster. Prussia moved Gisela to the side suddenly. A bullet hit his side. He ignored it, running faster, half dragging her along. Another bullet tore into his leg. He winced, stumbling for a moment.

"Gil!" Gisela stopped, turning back to him.

"KEEP RUNNING!" Prussia snapped, forcing himself to catch up to her. He pushed her forwards, catching another bullet. He slowed down, gripping his side, coughing hard.

"Gil…" Gisela looked up at him as he ran next to her, "What are you-"

"It doesn't matter…" he shook his head. The next bullet hit his back and he was down, "GISELA RUN!" He screamed at her, pulling out his gun and firing up at the guard tower. The bullets stopped for a moment, just long enough for her to almost reach the border. He looked up, trying to see her. She had to make it. He fired towards the tower again, then looked back as he heard Gisela scream. He saw her grip her arm, but she kept running.

 _God, please… please let her make it… please…_ He gave a loud grunt of pain as more bullets tore through him. He lowered his gun, letting his hand drop onto the gravel. He felt the wet ground. Blood. His blood. He let his head fall back as Gisela crossed the other side. She was safe. She was finally safe. He closed his eyes, bringing his hands to his stomach and chest, trying to press into the wounds. The movement told the guards he was still alive. He had to use all the willpower he had to keep from screaming in pain as more bullets hit him. He didn't move again, closing his eyes. His breath caught in his chest, and he could feel the blood seeping through his fingers. He tried to think about something else, anything else, something to distract him from the pain. Gisela was safe. And maybe, just maybe, Ludwig was safe. As long as his brother was safe nothing else mattered. He opened his bloodshot red eyes again slowly, looking up. Pink light was just barely starting to kiss the sky. It was sunrise.

* * *

A/N: I cried. I cried real actual rolling-down-my-cheeks tears at this one... mostly in the middle when Gil actually thought about killing her... then, of course, he changed his mind... *sighs* I mean, he'll be fine, but... and Italy and France are trying to act more hopeful than they feel... things aren't looking to good... (the lightness couldn't last from last chapter, now could it...?) But as long as Gil was sucessful in protecting his brother...?

WE HIT 300 reviews! The 300th was actuall yhit by a very new reader (Greetings Egg!), but Egg doesn't have an account... so the prize goes to MarshipyWristesStuff! Thank you so much for the 303rd review! The prize: You get to help create/name a character for an upcoming chapter! Thank you so much for reading! I really do love reading everyone's reviews. Thank you so much for all of them! I really really love reading them! And replying to them! You guys make my day! Lemonaide and cookies and hugs and possibly tissues for all of you. *hugs*


	58. Chapter 58: Bullets

Chapter 58

The sunrise dyed the sky in beautiful oranges and pinks as it slowly rose. Gil watched it, the wall casting a giant cold shadow, keeping the light from touching him. He winced, trying to figure out where each of the bullets had hit. He gasped from pain, breathing growing more and more difficult, though his lungs weren't damaged. The bleeding was slowing as he started to heal. He closed his eyes, hearing footsteps running towards him. It was only one man. He tried to stop struggling, hoping the man would drag him back to the east side through the gate and he could get away. He felt a boot hit his stomach, and cried out, looking up at the man.

The soldier froze, taking a step back, looking down at Gil, pulling his gun away, "Herr Beilschmidt?" The man asked, staring down at him.

"Geiszler?" Gil whispered, looking up at him, shocked.

"What are you… doing here?"

Gil didn't answer, looking back at the man, not moving.

"I should report this…" Geiszler took a step back towards the tower.

"Nein, das sollten Sie nicht! (No you should not!)" Gil looked up at him, shaking his head.

Geiszler turned, "You know, the last time I saw you you held a gun to my head…"

"An empty gun…" Gil whispered, his voice choked with pain.

"You said I impressed you…"

"You did," Gil nodded.

"You said you would mention me for promotion, and… well, I suppose you did…" Geiszler looked up at the tower, then back down at Gil, lowering his gun.

There was silence for a moment before Geiszler spoke again.

"I shouldn't let you go back… I could get in trouble."

"I won't let you get in trouble, soldier, I promise."

"What are you doing here?" Geiszler asked, aiming his gun back at Gil.

"I can't tell you that. I'm sorry, Soldier," Gil turned to his side, forcing himself to stand.

"How… how are you…?" Geiszler looked at the blood on Gil's shirt.

"Again, I'm afraid I can't tell you. Now, there's no need to report this…" Gil tried to steady himself, gripping his side, wincing, "Just go back to your post, Soldier."

"I don't know if I can just let you go back to-"

"Soldier! I can't explain to you what's going on, and if you ask me again you can be sure I will get you into trouble for not following orders!" Gil snapped, standing up as straight as he could.

"Jawohl!" Geiszler stood straight, saluting Gil.

Gil smiled, nodding to him, taking a step towards the gate, stumbling forwards.

Geiszler caught him, helping him stand again, "Aren't you hurt, Herr Beilschmidt? Can I get you any help?"

Gil shook his head, standing straight again, "Nein, Danke," he forced himself to walk, putting one foot in front of the other, gripping his side where the worst pain tore through him. He didn't look back at Geiszler, hearing the man running towards the guard tower again. He just hoped he would keep his mouth shut.

…

Gil dragged himself into Gisela's hotel room, and into the bathroom. He pulled off the leather jacket, dropping it to the ground, and tore off his shirt, looking in the mirror at the damage. Nine shots, two in his side, one in his back, two in his leg, and four in his chest. He pressed into the wounds, wincing hard, keeping back a cry of pain, setting his jaw. Only one of the bullets, one in his leg, had gone all the way through. He growled in frustration, pulling a knife out of his pocket and setting his gun on the bathroom counter.

Gil limped to the shower, sitting in it and ripping open the leg of his pants, looking down at the damage. He looked down at the wound and felt for the bullet deep inside it. He closed his eyes for a moment, setting his jaw, trying to force himself to breathe normally. He looked at his hands. They were already shaking. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, trying to steady his hands. He picked up the knife again, turning to the wound in his leg. He pressed the tip of the knife into the wound, gritting his teeth, his breath shaking with pain. He cut into the wound, giving space to pry out the bullet. He tried to remind himself he didn't have any other choice. He couldn't risk going to a hospital. It would take too long, and he would have to answer too many questions. He pulled the bullet from the wound with shaking fingers, dropping it onto the tile shower floor. He leaned against the back wall, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes again. He had seven more to go. He looked down at one of the holes in his side and pressed the knife into the wound.

Gil leaned back against the shower wall again, panting, sweating. Blood dripped down his chest and arms. He didn't know how he'd reached the wound in his back, but he'd done it. He looked back down at his hands, dropping the knife. They were shaking even more than before. He felt sick, shaking from pain. Slowly, carefully, he reached up to turn on the shower.

Cold water hit his chest. He cried out in pain but didn't move, letting it wash away all the blood. He watched it swirl down the drain, and slid down the wall until he laid on his back, bringing his good let up against the shower wall, bending his knees. He wanted to sleep. The water hit the wall above his head, sending soft misty spray back into his face. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe, trying to let himself rest just for a little while… He sat up again finally, dragging himself to his feet, rinsing the last of the blood down the drain. He sighed, pushing his wet hair back out of his face. He got out of the shower and grabbed one of the towels, pressing it into his hair first, then drying off. He looked down at his pants and sighed. He didn't care. He limped back towards the mirror, looking at the wounds. They were healing, slowly, but surely, and they no longer bled. He sighed in relief. That was a start. He pulled the jacket back over his shoulders, zipping it closed. The bullet holes still showed in the jacket, but not as noticeable as on the shirt. He tried to wash the blood out of the shirt, before throwing it into the trash. No one would notice, and even if they did, no one would care.

Gil walked back into the main part of the hotel room, looking around, trying to find anything that was Gisela's. He couldn't leave it there. He didn't see anything. He checked the nightstand, and finally the drawers. Her old clothes were folded in the middle left drawer, along with her heels. He picked them up, looking at them. He closed his eyes with a sigh. He looked back at the garbage basket in the room, and took the bag from it, putting Gisela's clothes inside. He glanced at the clock. It was almost 6 AM. He shook his head, quickly searching the room for anything else she'd left. He found nothing. He picked up the back of her clothes and walked out of the room, locking it, and back to his car.

…

GDR's boss looked at his watch. It was almost 10 in the morning. He'd seen the bodies of 4 men, but no women. He sighed, shaking his head.

Gil walked up to his boss's door and slammed the side of his fist against it. He looked up at the guards as the door opened, "Let me in?" he smirked. He stepped inside, dropping the body he carried onto his bosses desk. "Done."

The man looked up at him, surprised, then down at the body of the blonde woman lying on his desk. She'd been shot in the back of the head, her face too damaged from the exit wounds to make out any real features. She wore a shirt he recognized as Gisela's. He sighed, looking down at her, then back up at Gil.

"It's a shame really," the man sighed, "She was one of the best in the city. Do you know why I asked you to kill her?"

Gil didn't reply, waiting for him to continue.

"She threatened to tell my wife unless I let her over the wall. I couldn't have that, now could I?"

Gil looked at him for a moment, then turned away again, refusing to let any emotion he felt show on his face, "Well? Are you going to call off RAF or not?"

"I told you, I don't control them."

Gil leaned forward on the desk, looking down at his boss, who still sat in his chair casually, "I just killed five people for you on the understanding that you tell RAF their funding stops unless they let. my brother. GO!" he slammed his fist on the table, both of his arms grabbed instantly by guards. He struggled, wrenching himself free of them, looking back at his boss. "Are you keeping your end of the deal, or not?" Gil's arms shook as he leaned against the desk again. He hoped his boss wouldn't notice.

"I'm keeping my end of the deal," his boss nodded. He looked up, towards one of the guards, motioning him forward and whispering in his ear. The guard left the room.

Gil watched, curious. He didn't ask.

The man looked up at the other guard, motioning to the body on his desk, "Get rid of it please, it upsets me."

The guard picked up the woman's body and took it out of the room.

Gil still said nothing, sitting down in the chair opposite his boss, the desk between them. He kept his eyes fixed on the man as he leaned back, adjusting his uniform. He didn't bother to sit up as the door opened and a young officer walked in. He wore a Stasi uniform. Gil looked up at him, almost amused.

"And who is this?" he asked, looking him over. The uniform was well pressed and put together meticulously. He wouldn't admit it, but he was slightly impressed. The man's face was young, no older than 25.

"This," GDR's boss smiled, "Is Heinrich Schulz. He's going to… spend some time with you while you're here. Just to make sure everything during your stay goes smoothly. I've already put him in the room attached to yours. I'm sure you don't mind, do you, Gilbert?"

Gil set his jaw, forcing a smile. He looked up at the young man, standing, walking up to him with all the authority and aristocracy he could find. Heinrich didn't seem bothered. Gil was impressed.

"So, Heinrich, it's very nice to meet you," Gil smiled, keeping his eyes fixed on the young man's, which didn't meet his, "You're quite young to be given someone like me to handle…" he turned back to his boss, "That is what you intend for him to be isn't it? A 'handler'? To make sure I stay under control? That I don't do anything…stupid again?" he glanced down at his boss's arm with a smirk, then turned back to Schulz, "So, what did you do? Kill someone important? Gather some kind of useful information…?"

Schulz didn't look at him.

Gil smirked, looking back at his boss, "He's pretty good. I'm impressed. I accept your offer to let him keep watch on me. Though I doubt he'll be any fun… I suppose being on duty he's not allowed to drink?"

GDR's boss looked up at him, annoyed, "Really, Gilbert? Is it really necessary for you to be this…this… frustrating right now?"

"What can I say, I'm talented. Also, I haven't slept all night, but you knew that." Gil shook his head, rolling his eyes and turning back to Schulz, "So… do you speak?"

Schulz said nothing.

Gil rolled his eyes, "All right then, I guess not." Gil turned back to his boss again, "I think you have a phone call to make?"

GDR's boss sighed, nodding. He picked up his phone, picking up a small black notebook. He flipped through it, then dialed a number, closing the book.

Gil heard the voice on the other end say something he couldn't understand in a surprised tone.

"This is a warning that all RAF funding and support by the GDR will stop unless Ludwig Beilschmidt is released, alive and unharmed, within the next hour. Good day, sir," his boss hung up the phone and turned to Gil, "There. Done."

"Danke," Gil nodded with a smile, turning back to Heinrich, "Well, if it's all the same to you, I'd like to go back to the hotel and sleep now." he walked past the young man and through the door into the hallway.

"Is he always so…?" Schulz looked at GDR's boss as the door closed.

"Obnoxious? Yes."

"Wonderful," Schulz sighed.

"Well, go after him," GDR's boss nodded towards the door.

Schulz walked out of the room, walking up to Gil, who leaned against the wall, waiting for him. He noticed Gil's hands were shaking slightly, "Are you all right, comrade Beilschmidt?" he asked.

Gil rolled his eyes, "Ja. I'm fine. Just a bit tired. I have been killing people all night." He stood, letting Schulz follow him as he walked towards his car.

* * *

A/N: Oh Gil... what have you done, you idiot! Next chapter we'll find out what's been happening to Germany. He managed to get out of this pretty well all things considered... I wonder if it will stay that way? There are a lot of people who know too many secrets now... Gil leaves too many loose ends. :/ Also we haven't seen Russia in a while... I miss him... maybe...? ;)

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated! Thank you so much for all the support! Cookies and treats for all of you! Thank you all so much! Shout out to MarshpyWritesStuff as the character of Heinrich Schulz is her character for the 300th commenter prize! I really like his character, and look forward to developing him further!


	59. Chapter 59: Familiar

Chapter 59

Gil opened the door of his hotel room, letting Schultz follow behind him. He opened his suitcase and slipped his hand into the inside pocket, pulling out a little leather case. He opened it, resisting the very strong urge to glance up to look at Heinrich's reaction. He took the needle and gave himself four full syringes full. He breathed deeply with a smile, relaxing. He closed the case and glanced up at Schulz, who watched silently. Gil slipped the case back into its pocket and took off his military jacket, hanging it in the closet, buttoning it on the hanger carefully. He pulled off his shirt and walked to the mirror across from the bed. He inspected the injuries again. They were scabbed over, continuing to heal, though slower than he would have liked. He pressed at one, inhaling through his teeth a little. He glanced over at Schulz, who still stood by the door, watching Gil.

"Well? Do you have anything you want to say?"

There was silence for a moment before Heinrich spoke, "Are you all right, sir?"

Gil sighed, "Have you ever been shot before, Schulz?"

The young man shook his head, "No, sir."

Gil nodded, "Good. I don't recommend it…" he winced again, turning to try and look at the wound on his back. It hurt more than the others. He guessed it was from trying to dig the bullet out with no mirror and a pocket knife.

"Should…" Heinrich stopped, not entirely sure if he should continue, "Should you be in a hospital, sir?"

"Absolutely not," Gil almost laughed, shaking his head, "That would be more trouble than any of you want to deal with," he smirked, glancing back at Schulz. "How old are you?"

"I'm 23, sir."

Gil nodded, "You're young. So, why did they assign you to me? I'm curious. Admit it, you're a bit young to 'handle' someone with my track record…" he laughed, looking into Heinrich's face, "which they didn't tell you, did they?" He shook his head, trying to hold back the slightly painful laughter. He forced himself not to limp towards the bed, rolling onto it, not bothering to kick off his boots. He looked back at Schulz, "Well? What did they tell you about me?"

"I'm not sure I should say, sir." Schulz stepped forward, still standing at attention, his hands behind his back.

Gil rolled his eyes and swore with a laugh, "You really aren't any fun. Relax, sit down, grab a beer from the fridge…I don't care, just stop standing there like a wooden board, I'm not _that_ dangerous," Gil shook his head again, motioning towards the fridge.

Schulz walked around the bed and into the spacious living room. He sat down in the chair closest to the bed, facing it. He tried to sit back into it, keeping his eyes on Gil. He couldn't relax.

"Look," Gil sat up, wincing again, forcing himself to lean on his elbows, "I'm dangerous, I'll give you that. Like I mentioned, I spent the whole night killing people. I've killed a lot of people. I lost count a few hundred ye-people ago." Gil shrugged, "But I'm a soldier. Killing people is what I do. It's what I'm good at. Killing people, and breaking people. Did they tell you that? I'm the best interrogator in the Soviet Union. I'll teach you if you like. You're Stasi, knowing how to get someone to talk against their own self-interest would probably be a useful skill for you. Interested?"

Heinrich said nothing, moving his hands slightly, uncomfortable.

"Am I making you nervous?"

Still no answer.

"Really? You really don't talk much. Oh well. I can talk a lot," he smirked, "How many people have you killed?" he asked, looking right into the young man's face.

Schulz sat back a little, surprised by the blunt question, "I… I… I'm not sure, sir?"

"Best guess?"

"5? 6?" Schulz said, forcing himself not to look away.

Gil nodded, "That's respectable," he looked at Heinrich, almost studying him, trying to learn as much as he could. His posture was stiff, nervous almost. Gil wasn't sure if it was from what he was sure was a very unfamiliar job, or from actual fear. He noticed again how young Schulz was. Too young. Far too young to get himself into this mess. Gil sighed. Humans didn't have a good track record of survival once they got close to him.

"Weapon of choice?" Gil asked, trying to start something like a casual conversation.

"Walther PPK-L, sir."

Gil smiled, "Me too. It's a good gun. I get mine specially made, of course, but you can use the regular model I suppose?"

"Actually, sir, I'm left-handed, so I usually get a custom gun too."

"You're left-handed?" Gil didn't mean to sound as surprised as he was.

"Yes, sir. I believe I read that you are too?"

Gil smiled, "That I am," he kept his eyes on Schulz, "So if you need it custom made anyway… have you ever gotten a custom molded grip?"

Heinrich shook his head, "I haven't, sir."

Gil shook his head, clicking his tongue, "It's worth it, I promise. There's nothing like feeling like your gun is part of your arm, truly," he sighed contently, just thinking about the feeling made him smile, "All right, I know you have questions for me. Go ahead. Ask away!" Gil leaned back, not bothering to look at Schulz, "No holdbacks. As whatever."

"Um…" Schulz thought for a moment, trying to think of a good question, "Well, your file didn't list an age… how old are you?"

"25," _Give or take almost a thousand years…_ Gil answered simply. He looked at Schulz, nodding for him to continue.

"Sir…" Heinrich sighed, again, almost too afraid to ask, "Sir, how did you… how did you survive those bullet wounds…"

"And _that_ is one of the few things I can't tell you," Gil shook his head, "But I'm fine. Trust me."

Heinrich nodded, "Yes, sir."

Gil smiled. He liked being called sir. It was a welcome change from his usual title, or worse, one of Russia's nicknames.

…

"Head up, Nazi."

Germany winced as a wooden rod forced his chin up. He looked at his captor, who wore a black cover over half of his face. He said nothing, waiting for the man to continue.

"Looks like you have friends in high places," the man snarled, "We've been asked to release you, unharmed."

Germany felt his heart pounding in his chest. They were going to let him go?

"I haven't decided yet if I'm going to listen to them…" The man struck Germany's back with the rod, smashing the end of it against the deeply reopened scar.

Germany didn't cry out, gasping from the sudden force. He looked up at the man defiantly.

"I'd still like to find out what you are." The man snarled, "You're too valuable of a hostage to let go…" He looked at his watch, "Oh dear… only 15 minutes until noon. So much for letting you go unharmed." The man smiled, pulling out a knife, "Now, how quickly can you heal?"

Germany winced, closing his eyes to hide the fear in them as the man pressed the blade against the back of his knee. He took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself. He opened his eyes, looking up suddenly as the door opened.

"Halt," the rough voice called in. It was the same man Germany had talked to when he'd first arrived.

Germany shivered. The voice was familiar, and familiar was almost comforting. He hated it.

"We're letting him go," The bigger man walked forward, tying a blindfold over Germany's eyes again.

Germany didn't struggle, trying not to move as the knife still pressed behind his knee. He didn't want to make the younger man angry. He would be able to heal from the injury, but it wouldn't heal quickly. He glanced towards the rough man again, wincing as he tied a gag tightly around his mouth. He didn't fight it.

"Now, he has someone to pick him up at the train station in twenty minutes. Make sure he gets there safely, and unharmed. Fail, and I kill you, is that understood?"

The younger man's voice grew quieter, "Yes, of course."

Germany relaxed a little, relieved as the blade moved from his leg without cutting him. He struggled to keep his balance as he was pulled up from the chair suddenly by a firm grip on his arm. He wrenched his arm free, earning him a hard shove with the wooden rod, sending him onto his knees. He felt them scrape against the concrete. He stood. He didn't care. He walked forward as he was pushed slightly. He knew the younger man was behind him, and he could hear the footsteps of the older man as he walked behind him. He tried to listen as they walked down a long hallway.

"There are steps here, be careful," The younger man said, a smirk in his voice.

Germany tried to brace himself too late as he was pushed forward, his shoulders and arms hitting the edges of the steps, his chest taking deep gashes, unprotected like his face as his hands were kept behind handcuffed behind his back. He tried not to move as he felt the relief of hard, flat concrete. He hadn't counted how many steps he'd fallen down. He coughed through the gag, blood soaking the fabric. He winced. His ribs burned and his lungs ached. He tried not to think about it. He could hear the older, rough man yelling at the younger from far way. The top of the stairs? Slowly the voices grew closer. He didn't move until they dragged him to his feet.

"He's mostly unharmed!" The younger man snapped, his tone defensive.

Germany winced as he heard the older man pull out a gun, readying it to fire.

"Hey-" The younger man's voice was cut off as a shot rang through the empty hallway.

Germany heard the body fall to the ground and turned towards the older man, not sure if he was relieved, or more terrified.

"Can you walk?" The man asked, almost less than coldly.

Germany nodded.

"Good."

Germany stepped forwards as the man gave him an almost gentle shove. He heard a door open, and fresh air hit his face. He took a deep breath. He hadn't realized how damp the air had been inside the concrete room before. He felt the sunlight on his face and bare shoulders. It was warm and pleasant. He shivered as he grew used to the warmth again.

"Get in,"

The older man's voice broke into Germany's thoughts as he heard a car door open. He obeyed, sliding into the car, hearing the door close and lock behind him. He didn't hear anyone else get into the car, figuring the driver was already inside. He fell on his shoulder as the car turned, moving suddenly. He pulled himself back up, trying to listen to the sound of the tires on the ground, trying to figure out where he was in the city. He fell against the door as the car turned again, trying to balance himself, finding it difficult with his hands tied behind him. He noticed the light disappear even behind the blindfold and felt the car stop. He waited as he heard the driver get out of the car. He tried to listen, the voices outside the car muffled. He turned towards the door, struggling suddenly as he heard Italy's voice. Then someone else, heavily accented… France? He wasn't sure.

The car door opened suddenly, and a hand grabbed Germany's arm, dragging him out of the car. He felt the handcuffs being unlocked. He brought his hands to the back of his head as soon as they were free, untying the gag and ripping off the blindfold. He barely had time to register that he was in a parking garage before Italy ran up to him, throwing his arms around him and not letting go. He wrapped the redhead in a hug, shaking.

"You're ok…" Italy closed his eyes, trying not to cry, "I'm so glad you're ok…"

Germany nodded, not sure how to react. He barely moved, keeping his arms around Italy, looking up at France.

France nodded, "He hasn't slept since… it happened. He's been trying to help find you. What happened? They just called your government and said they were letting you go, where to meet them… what happened?"

"I don't know…" Germany shook his head, gently pulling Italy away from the hug, wincing hard as gashes in his chest from the stairs started throbbing, the adrenaline finally starting to wear off. He felt sick, suddenly realizing he hadn't eaten anything in almost two days. He felt lightheaded.

"Germany!"

He opened his eyes, hearing Italy's panicked voice. He looked up, realizing he must have blacked out, as both France and Italy steadied him. He looked at their car, nodding. They led him to it slowly, opening the door. He pressed his hands into his face, trying to remember every tiny detail so he could report it. He replayed everything in his mind, every sound, every smell, every voice, every threat, every cut, every bruise… he shivered. He didn't want to remember all of it. He had to remember all of it. They had to find them and stop them. He couldn't let them keep terrorizing his country. They had to be stopped, and he was going to stop them. He looked up as sunlight streamed into the car. He looked out the window, watching the buildings in the distance pass by slowly, the closer ones blurring past faster than he could see them. He closed his eyes, sighing deeply. It felt good to be home.

* * *

A/N: A light chapter? What? XD Gil's having a grand old time messing with Heinrich, and GERMANY'S BACK HOME! He did end up getting released and is (mostly) ok... though he certainly is angry with RAF... I enjoyed writing this chapter. :)

As always, I really do love reading reviews! It seems like you guys are already starting to blast through the 300's! Thank you so so so much! And thank you to all of you who have been sharing this story with your friends and bringing in new viewers! Thanks! Danke! Spasiba! *hugs* Today is my Dad's birthday, so there was cake. Lots of cake. Chocolate cake. Chocolate cake for everyone! YAY! :D (And Tea/Coffee, whatever you prefer!)


	60. Chapter 60: Stage

Chapter 60

Gisela looked in the mirror, adjusting her lace arm band over the bandage, being sure to cover it. The long wound where the bullet had grazed her arm still stung, but it was healing, slowly. She looked up at her face, sighing deeply and reaching for her lipstick. She pressed it to her lips, swiping the color over the dry, chapped skin. She tried to blend it with her finger, trying to hide how caked and thick the makeup was. The lights would hide it anyway.

"So, it's your first day?" A pleasant, sad voice, came from behind her.

Gisela turned to see a very young woman, with dark brown messy hair, smiling at her kindly, standing in the open doorway of her dressing room. She nodded to her, "Yes. Here. I've worked before, though I'm not really nervous…"

"Did some guy do that to you?" The girl motioned to the bandage on her arm, visible where the lace had slipped down.

Gisela pulled the band up again, sighing, "Yeah, sure, some guy…" She tried to keep it over the bandage.

"Here," The girl walked up to her, pulling some tape out of her small bag, "This'll help."

Gisela smiled, nodding, letting the girl use the special tape to adhere the lace band to her skin.

"Just use some water when you want to get that off," the girl smiled, "Don't worry, they're nice here," she nodded.

Gisela nodded back, looking away as the girl left the room, walking down the hallway. She looked up at her face again, then turned away. What was she doing? She walked up to her clothes rack, searching through endless lace and satin. She looked back at the jeans and shirt Gil had given her, lying on the floor where she had dumped them as she changed into her robe. She sighed deeply, wanting nothing more than to put them back on and leave. She didn't know where she'd go. She wasn't sure she'd care. Anywhere but where she was. Anything but having to laugh and smile at another man who didn't care what was inside her head. She looked away, turning to the rack of clothes again.

…

Lithuania knocked on the white door of Poland's room, pausing to listen for a response. He frowned, worried.

"Felek?" he asked, trying not to sound as concerned as he felt, "Feliks are you ok?" He waited for an answer. The blonde country hadn't come to dinner. He called once more, still without a reply. He wrapped his knob around the handle of the door, not sure if he should open it. He shook his head, deciding to trust his gut instead of his head. He opened the door, leaving it open behind him. The room was dark, lit only by the last of the evening light peeking through the drawn curtains, and the dim light from the hallway through the open door. Lithuania stepped closer to the bed slowly, then ran, putting his hand on Poland's shoulder, his voice panicked.

"Feliks? Feliks wake up!" he moved Poland's soaking hair out of his face, laying the back of his hand on Poland's forehead. He looked back towards the door, worried, "Feliks can you hear me?"

Poland groaned, nodding very faintly.

"I'll be right back, ok?"

Poland didn't respond.

Lithuania set his jaw, shaking his head, his hands trembling. He ran into Poland's bathroom and took all the cloths he could find from the shelves, turning the water on as cold as it could be. He soaked the clothes, ringing them out slightly so keep them from dripping, and carried them back to Poland, laying them across his forehead and arms.

"Feliks, what's going on?" Lithuania asked, rubbing his friend's shoulder, trying to comfort him. He jumped the light dimmed suddenly as someone stepped into the door way. He turned, shaking.

"Poland's economy is breaking. His people are striking, they're trying to fight me. It's stupid. Look what they're doing to him…" Russia smiled, shaking his head.

"What does he need? What can I-"

"You can do absolutely nothing I'm afraid. He needs medicine of course. But I'm not going to give it to him. His country is going to deal with its own problems. I have other things to attend to."

"I can send-"

"Nyet!" Russia snapped, "You can't do anything either. Your bosses and I have already discussed this. You'll keep Feliks alive here, and his bosses will handle his people on their own. They want a more 'peaceful' solution than if I step in. Too many people there hate me for some reason," Russia smiled, almost laughing, "If I get involved, I'm going to crush the little… 'Solidarność' going on. His bosses want something less dramatic," Russia shrugged, "I'll humor them. As long as they can keep everything under control."

"Is… is America getting involved?" Lithuania wasn't sure he should ask.

"Not yet, but he's threatened to. I've taken steps to make sure he doesn't become a problem."

"How long is this going to take, Ivan? Why don't you just help!?" Lithuania took a step back as Russia took a step forward, hiding his shaking hands behind his back.

"I've given his bosses a deadline. This winter. If they haven't solved their problem by then, I will, but no one wants that… do they?"

Lithuania looked at him, shaking his head, then back down at Poland, "Please… please give me some medicine. Let me help him… please…"

"I will allow a small amount of help towards Feliks, but not Poland, is that understood?" Russia took another step forward, silhouetted against the light from the hallway.

Lithuania shuddered, nodding, noticing Russia's hand was on his pipe.

"All I need you to do, Toris, is keep Feliks alive, da?"

Lithuania nodded, "D… da, Mr. Russia… I'll keep him alive."

"Khorosho!" Russia grinned, turning to the door, glancing back at Lithuania as he reached the hallway, "Don't do anything you'll regret, da?"

Lithuania shivered, nodding. He watched Russia's giant shape disappear past the door. He fell to his knees, shaking, bringing his hands to his face, forcing himself to slow his breathing down. He stood, turning back to Poland, who met his eyes.

"Liet…" Poland whispered, his voice so weak Lithuania could barely hear it.

"Tak?" Lithuania picked up the cloth on Poland's forehead, folding it and wiping away the sweat on the blond's face, flipping it to the cooler side and replacing it on his head.

"Liet… I'm not scared…"

Lithuania set his jaw, worried, his hands shaking as he rubbed Poland's shoulder again.

"My people…" Poland whispered, closing his eyes, a few pained tears slipping from them.

"You don't have to talk, just rest-"

"They're starting to fight back, Liet… they're starting to fight back…"

…

"Sir?" Schulz stood straight beside Gil's bed, his hands behind his back, "Sir?" he asked again, louder.

Gil groaned, bringing his arm over his face, shaking his head.

"Sir, I'm afraid I have to wake you up now," Schulz said, looking down at Gilbert.

Gil groaned again, louder, "How much did I drink last night?" he brought his other arm over his face, muffling his voice.

"I… I didn't count sir…"

"Mmmph," Gil growled, turning to his side, bringing the pillow over his face, "What do you want?" he asked, barely intelligible through the goose down.

"You've been called back to Moscow, sir…"

Gil sat up instantly, blinking in the light, bringing his hands to his face. He swore, shaking his head, "Close the d*** curtains, would you?" he winced, keeping his hand over his eyes.

Schulz looked down at Gil, rolling his eyes. He walked to the other side of the room and drawing the curtains, "Better, sir?" he asked, walking back up to the bed.

Gil nodded, "Sure." He pulled his hand away from his eyes, still blinking in the light that insisted on invading the room. He looked up at Schulz, "He wants me to come back?"

"I… I'm not sure who's calling for you, sir. I just heard that it was Moscow."

Gil held back a laugh, turning to sit on the bed, falling back onto it, pressing his hands into his face, "Why is it light outside?"

"Because of the sun, sir," Heinrich said.

Gil moved his hands, looking up at him, "Well aren't you smart," he rolled his eyes, sitting up.

Schulz ignored him, "There's a car coming for you in an hour, sir."

Gil nodded, standing. He looked down at the military pants he had forgotten to take off the night before, and adjusted the waistband, wincing from the button having pressed into his skin all night. He sighed, walking up to his suitcase, pulling out the case and taking his morning dose. He glanced at Heinrich, who looked away immediately.

"There's a lot you don't know, Schulz," Gil said simply, zipping the case closed and replacing it into its pocket in the suitcase.

"I know that's a lot of drugs, sir."

"Well, you're certainly taking this role of babysitting me quite seriously, aren't you?" Gil snapped, annoyed.

Heinrich set his jaw to keep from replying.

"All right, what is it? Say what you want to say." Gil turned to look at the young man, walking up to him, crossing his arms over his chest.

Schulz said nothing.

"That's an order. Speak."

"I lost someone to drugs once, sir. I… I'm not anxious to see anyone else hurt by them."

"Mm," Gil looked away, nodding, "That's a good reason. If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't take them in front of you."

"You're going away this afternoon, sir, so I suppose it doesn't matter."

"I guess not," Gil turned away, walking back towards his suitcase, "Wait, did you say afternoon!?"

"You did have quite a few drinks last night, sir…"

Gil rolled his eyes, taking his black button-down shirt from the hanger. "Do you know anything about why I'm being called back? I'm going to miss the celebration if I leave now…"

"I only heard it has something to do with Poland, sir."

"Fel- that um… doesn't sound good. What's he- what's going on?" Gil shook his head, mentally kicking himself. He found being hungover unhelpful to keeping secrets. He slipped on his shirt, glancing at the mirror to see the bullet wounds were continuing to heal quickly. He started on the buttons of his shirt, looking back at Schulz, who watched him, confused.

"What's wrong, Schulz?"

"Nothing, sir," Heinrich shook his head but continued to watch Gil. He'd heard a few rumors while he'd been training. Rumors he'd dismissed as fairy tales. He wasn't sure anymore.

Gil finished buttoning his military jacket, walking back to the mirror to begin adjusting it to near-perfection. He glanced back at Schulz through the reflection. He didn't like the look on his face. It was too contemplative. He'd said more than too much. He didn't want Schulz putting the pieces together.

…

"Who's the kid?" A man with not quite enough grey hair for his age leaned up against the bar in the club, motioning towards a young, dark haired man sitting in the back corner.

"Not sure on his name…" The bartender shrugged, glancing at the young man, "But he never orders anything. The boss said we're not supposed to ask questions, just accept it. He just sits there. Every few days he'll show up. He stays for hours, and barely watches any of the dancers. He's a bit weird if you ask me." The bartender shook his head, finishing drying the glass he held, setting it back down.

"Hmm…" The man shrugged, "I'll take a beer please, the darkest you've got."

The bartender nodded, glancing up at the young man at the table again as his boss sat next to him. He picked up the glass again and brought it to the tap.

"Well?" The owner of the club, Klein, sat next to the young man, looking at him kindly.

"Well, what?"

"Any luck?"

The young man shook his head, "Nein…" he sighed, "I made the full circuit tonight… every club within ten miles of here… nothing," he sighed deeply, "Is there anyone new? Someone I haven't seen yet?"

"We do have a new girl, yes," Klein nodded, sighing, "But I don't know… it doesn't sound like-"

"I want to see her."

"She'll be out in an hour or so…" Klein shrugged, "I don't want you going back there and bothering the girls."

The young man sighed, "Fine. I'll wait."

"Can I get you anything?"

The young man shook his head, "Nein. I'm fine. Actually…" He stopped Klein as the man started to walk away, "I would ask for a glass of water if that's all right."

Klein nodded, shaking his head, "You're a strange one, Hans."

The young man shrugged, turning back to his book, not bothering to look up at the stage, trying to drown out the music and voices that were almost unbearably loud. He looked up almost forty pages later as the music quieted and Klein took the microphone to announce the new girl. He froze, looking up at her face as she walked onto the stage. He bit his lip, hardly daring to believe it could possibly be her.

…

Gisela waved to the other girls, sighing deeply as she opened the large metal door that led to the outside world, and another night sleeping in a bus station. She turned to her right, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. She glanced behind her, seeing a man, silhouetted by the dim light above the door. She stopped, turning to look at him, shaking. He didn't move, just stared at her. She couldn't see his face.

"Can I… Can I help you, sir?" She asked, her voice trembling.

"Oh God, it is you…"

She saw the man shaking his head, bringing his hands to his face. "Excuse me…?" She asked, taking a step forward towards him. She gasped as he looked up, taking a step back so she could see his face. She dropped her back, bringing both of her hands to her mouth to muffle a gasp.

"Gisela…?"

"Cort!"

She ran to him, throwing her arms around him, letting him hold her. She could hear the tears in his voice.

"You're ok… You're alive…" he whispered over and over, "Oh thank God…"

She sobbed on his shoulder, gripping his jacket, holding him as tightly as she could, her voice too choked with tears to speak.

"I've got you…" Cort whispered to her, "I've got you… I've got you, you're safe now…" He kissed her hair, his own breath choked and his voice thick with tears, "I'm going to take you home. You're going to be ok…"

She nodded, still unable to speak. She just held him and let her hold her. She was going home…

* * *

A/N: So. Many. Things. Happening. For those of you who asked about a Cort and Gisela reunion... here it is! It has always been my intention to reunite these two. From the moment we heard she ran away. Because: happiness. Some joy for this family. They need it. Life hasn't really been too kind to these two, and they will have a lot to talk about. More scenes to come with them, I promise. :)

So, what's going on with Poland? The Polish Crisis of 1980-81 (more me squishing history by the way to make that timeline work. I'm still running most things like it's the mid-70;s, and so I'm kinda moving this forward? I'm only squishing a few years...). It would be quite long to explain all of it, but basically, Russia didn't invade, instead, letting Poland deal with its own mess, which got martial law declared eventually... but it is seen by many as Poland's first really big step towards toppling the Soviet regime in Poland., which is quite a good thing! So in it goes. A lot of it started with economic trouble, resulting in a strike, which started a union. So, Poland is very, very sick. And Russia isn't going to be much help. GDR Was involved, as was America (so he'll be showing up soon!) in the real historical event, so stay tuned!

Cort being called "Hans" in the club. I'll probably have him explain this later, but just in case that was confusing: he's using a fake name. That's all, lol.

As always, I LOOOOOVE reading all of your reviews! Thank you to all of you who review so faithfully! Cookies and treats and lemonaide and all things wonderful for all of you! This chapter was a mix of emotions, so I hope those help! :)


	61. Chapter 61: Wishes

Chapter 61

Gil took a breath, and walked into Russia's office, standing at attention, "You… asked to see me?" he asked simply. A cold chill ran down his spine.

Russia laughed.

Gil set his jaw, swallowing hard, hiding his shaking hands behind his back, looking away. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to hide the fear in his breath as the laughing stopped and Russia stood suddenly.

Russia walked to Gil, standing in front of him, looking down at the red eyes that didn't turn to look at him. "Take off your shirt."

Gil looked up at Russia, shaking, "What?"

"I gave you an order."

Gil set his jaw, closing his eyes for a moment, looking up at Russia again, his breath shaking. He reached up to unbutton his jacket, slipping it off. He loosened his tie, pulling it off his neck and opened his shirt, looking up at the giant country. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and pulled it off by the sleeves, laying it against the chair across the desk from Russia's. He looked up to the bigger country again, sighing deeply.

"Explain those," Russia motioned to the healing wounds from gunfire across Gil's chest and sides.

Gil said nothing, his head snapping to the side as the back of Russia's gloved hand struck his cheek.

"Answer me," Russia's voice was cold, but he was smiling.

Gil looked up at him and smirked, "You already know the answer, don't you?"

Russia nodded, "Da. You let someone across the wall. Some random girl… Did you fall for her? Did she manage to talk her way through your common sense!? You let someone across the wall, GDR! You can't expect me to let something like that go unaddressed… what were you thinking?" Russia shook his head, the anger in his voice growing more distinct, "Explain yourself!"

"Who told you? How did you find out…" Gil looked up at him, relieved he didn't seem to know it was Gisela.

"The soldier who let you back in informed your boss, who informed me. And apparently, your handler was concerned about you after seeing your injuries. You're careless, GDR!" Russia snapped, walking behind Gil.

Gil shivered, closing his eyes, knowing what was coming. Russia grabbed his hair, kicking him to his knees, pulling his head back. He didn't look at Russia, "I'm not sorry."

"Oh, I know you're not… yet," Russia's snarled, his voice like ice.

Gil kept his hands behind his back, trying to hide their shaking, hoping Russia didn't notice. He closed his eyes again, wincing hard as Russia snapped double-locked cuffs around his wrists and pulled them tight.

"Russia…" Gil set his jaw, trying to talk his pride into shutting up long enough for him to ask Russia to loosen the cuffs.

"What's wrong, GDR?" Russia leaned behind him, his freezing breath sending a shiver down Gil's spine again. He pulled the cuffs tighter, smiling as Gil winced again, gasping a little in pain.

Gil grit his teeth harder, he didn't care how tight Russia made the cuffs. He wasn't going to ask him to loosen them, no matter how much it hurt.

"Get up," Russia snapped, kicking Gil's back, sending him to the ground.

Gil winced, looking back at Russia. Getting up wasn't easy with his hands behind his back. He tried to roll onto his side, trying to move his knee higher to give himself some help, only to have Russia kick him down again.

"I said, 'get up'," Russia said.

Gil glared up at him again, pulling himself to his knees and standing, turning to face Russia, his eyes flashing with defiance.

Russia grabbed his face, stepping closer to him, "Look at you…" Russia shook his head, laughing again, "You think you have a right to challenge me after being away for so long… I won't make that mistake again." Russia grabbed Gil's hair, dragging him towards the door, kicking him into the hallway. "Get up."

Gil looked back at him again, trying to get back onto his knees so he could stand. He cried out in pain before he could stop himself as Russia grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet. His wrists burned and his hands were starting to go numb, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to beg. He tried to keep up as Russia dragged him towards the staircase leading to the first floor of the house. He closed his eyes bracing himself to be shoved down the marble steps.

"Vanya!" A panicked voice screamed as a loud crash came from the kitchen downstairs.

Russia looked towards the room, his expression changing from anger to concern instantly. He kept his hand around Gil's arm, pulling him along behind him as he almost ran down the stairs.

Gil tried to keep up with Russia, almost tripping several times as the bigger country led him to the kitchen and dropped him to the ground as he ran up to Ukraine, kneeling beside her.

"Katya?" Russia asked, worried.

Ukraine tried to speak through the tears, holding a wet towel to her arm, shaking. A metal pot was dented on the floor, hot stew spilled everywhere on the floor.

"Katya, what happened?" Russia asked again, putting his hand on her arm gently, looking up at her, "Are you hurt?"

Ukraine nodded, moving the towel from her arm, "I tripped and…" she winced, looking at her mildly burned.

Russia sighed, "Come here…" he stood, helping her to her feet and bringing her towards the sink again. He took the towel from her gently and re-wet it with cold water, replacing it on her arm. He reached up and brushed the tears away from her cheeks kindly, "You're ok, Kotyonok," he smiled, trying to calm her, "It's not bad, it won't take very long to heal…"

She nodded, "Spasiba…" her voice still shook as she tried to stop crying, "It really hurts, Vanya…"

Russia sighed, "Here…" he handed her the key to the medicine closet, "There's a cream for burns in the left cabinet on the third shelf from the top, the far right side, do you think you can find it?"

She nodded, brushing away her tears.

"It'll help," Russia smiled, kissing her forehead, "Now, I have other things to attend to, are you all right now?"

Ukraine nodded, smiling at him, brushing more tears away, "Spasiba, Vanya…"

Russia smiled at her kindly, "I'll send one of the Baltics to clean this mess up later, you go treat that burn, da?"

Ukraine nodded again, walking out of the room. She glanced at Gil, biting her lip, worried. She said nothing, continuing past him.

Russia stepped back towards Gil, grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet, dragging him to the basement door.

Gil didn't struggle. He didn't want to use up any strength. He would play along. But Russia wasn't going to bring that pipe anywhere near him without a fight.

…

"Come in…" Lithuania's voice trembled as he turned towards the door. He sighed in relief as he saw Ukraine walk into the room, closing and locking the door behind her. She ran up to him, putting her hand on his shoulder, then kneeling next to the bed, brushing Poland's hair out of his face.

"Felya… I brought you medicine, ok?"

Poland smiled weakly, nodding, "Dziękuję… (thank you)" he whispered, "Spasiba."

Ukraine smiled, "Don't worry about it…" she glanced back at Lithuania, handing him the medicine.

Lithuania sighed, smiling, looking up at Ukraine, "Spasiba, Katya. You didn't have to do this… are you all right?"

Ukraine nodded, "The burn isn't bad, I made sure of that. I'll be fine. He needs this…"

Lithuania nodded back, "Yes… yes, he does… still, thank you."

"Where's Hungary?" Ukraine asked, touching Poland's face gently, not turning to look at Lithuania as he measured out some of the medicine.

"Sleeping," Lithuania sighed, "She stayed with him all night so I could sleep…"

"And did you?" Ukraine glanced back at him.

"No," Lithuania shook his head. He took the cup of liquid medicine and brought it to Poland as Ukraine stepped out of the way, "Do you think you can drink this, Felek?"

Poland nodded, letting Lithuania lift his head a little. He grimaced, drinking the awful dark pink liquid. "Mhph…" he shook his head, "Blech…"

Lithuania smiled, slightly amused, "It's not that bad, is it?"

"Mhph…" Poland looked up at him with a very faint smile, "yes it is…"

Lithuania took a glass of water from the nightstand and held it to Poland's lips, "Here."

Poland drank gratefully, sighing as Lithuania laid his head back onto the pillow, "Thank you…" he whispered.

Lithuania put his hand on his friend's shoulder kindly, "Do you need anything else? Are you hungry?"

Poland shook his head faintly, "Just sleep…"

Lithuania nodded, and turned to look at Ukraine again.

"There wasn't anything else for a fever. I'm sorry…" Ukraine looked down.

"This will work fine. Don't worry. Please," Lithuania shook his head, smiling at her kindly, "Thank you for your help…"

"I can stay with him for a while if you need to do anything else…" Ukraine looked down at Poland, worried.

"No, I'm fine, thank you." Lithuania nodded, "I can stay. You shouldn't though. I don't want your brother to find you here. You can't get in trouble…"

"My brother is… busy," Ukraine brought her hands to her arms, looking down again, sighing.

"Katy… what's going on?"

Ukraine didn't say anything for a moment, then sighed, looking back up at Lithuania, "Gil's back."

Lithuania closed his eyes with a deep sigh, "And?" he was almost afraid to ask.

"Ivan had the handcuffs on the second to last lock, and… and there were old bullet wounds in Gil's chest… I'm worried about him…"

Lithuania sighed again, bringing his hand to his eyes, rubbing gently, trying to figure out what to do, "Maybe you should stay here and-"

"If you go down there my sister will kill you… if Ivan doesn't first." Ukraine shook her head, "So you're not going."

Lithuania looked at her, annoyed, then back at Poland. He couldn't leave. He sat back down in the chair he'd pulled up beside the bed. "You can go, Katy. Thank you for your help."

Ukraine nodded, biting her lip. She turned and walked quickly out of the room, closing the door behind her. She was worried.

…

Prussia gasped, forcing himself to hold back a cry of pain as Russia's fingers dug into the gunshot wounds he'd reopened.

"These must have hurt, GDR…" Russia's voice was almost concerned.

"Yeah, no sh-" Prussia inhaled through his teeth, looking up at Russia. His arms were pinned under him, the handcuffs nearly unbearable as they cut into his wrists. He winced again as Russia kicked him onto his stomach, crying out as he pressed into the wound on his back.

"You did this yourself, didn't you? It's messy, GDR, you're not very good at it."

"I didn't have a mirror!" Prussia snapped, wincing again.

"If you hadn't disobeyed me, none of this would have happened, GDR," Russia shook his head, his voice growing angry again.

Prussia didn't answer, refusing to look back at Russia as the giant country dragged him to the wall, pulling him back up to his knees and locking the handcuffs to a latch on the wall, forcing his wrists up and his chest down. He inhaled through his teeth again, the strain on his shoulders distracting him from his wrists for a moment before pain shot through his arms. He couldn't feel his hands. He looked up at Russia as he felt the familiar cold of the pipe against his chin, lift it roughly.

"What. Is. Your. Name?"

"Prussia!" The pipe hit his face, hard.

"Wrong answer," Russia shook his head. "What is your name?"

Gil looked up at Russia, licking the blood off his lips, "German Democratic Republic…" he whispered, looking down.

"And what are you?"

Gil bit his lip, pain driving through his arms to his chest, the scar left by General Winter burning with cold, "A communist state…"

"Who do you belong to?"

Gil looked up at Russia, "You…"

"And why was the wall built?"

"To protect me…" Gil whispered, shaking his head.

"And the people who try and cross it? What do they deserve!?" Russia snapped, forcing Gil's head up with his pipe again.

"Freedom."

Russia brought the pipe down on Gil's arms, drawing a loud cry from the smaller country. He saw the handcuffs start to tear at Gil's skin, blood dripping down his arms. He lifted his face with the pipe again, "What. Do they. Deserve, GDR?"

Gil closed his eyes, shaking his head again.

"I don't want to hurt you, GDR, but you're not answering my questions…" Russia shook his head, pressing the faucet of his pipe into Gil's throat, "What do the people who try to cross the wall, deserve?"

Prussia set his jaw, looking up at Russia.

"I never should have sent you back there…" Russia growled, shaking his head. "You've forgotten all your lessons…"

Prussia smirked, "I haven't forgotten anything… but I am going to fight you with everything I have. Do your worst!"

Russia sighed, looking down at Prussia, "Be careful what you wish for, Ptitska."

* * *

A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand things aren't going so well on the east side of the wall... shocker, I know. Prussia got his rebellious side back in Berlin, and Russia does NOT want to deal with it... Meanwhile, Poland is going through it, but he has lots of help! Also, Ukraine shows up again. You guys seem to like her a lot... (I mean I do too... but she's so sweet she's usually too helpful in this story...) Gil's going to regret not asking for those handcuffs to be loosened...

As always, reviews are so deeply appreciated! I can't believe how quickly you guys are reviewing! Or how many of you are! Thank you so much to everyone so dedicating to reviewing this story. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I want to hug you all! Instead, have some delicious, warm, freshly-baked, chocolate cookies, and some hot cocoa or lemonade! Thank you all so much! *hugs*


	62. Chapter 62: Scar

Chapter 62

 _"_ _Hey, Nazi! Look over here!"_

 _Germany didn't turn, wincing hard as the end of a wooden rod hit his cheek. He looked up in time to feel another blow on the other side of his face. Four RAF members stood around him, all of them with the staffs. Germany kept his head down, refusing to look at them. He took a strike to the face and back at the same time, giving a low grunt of pain, blinking hard as his vision blurred. He tried to lift his head, not bothering to struggle as one of them grabbed his hair, pulling him forward so they could see the scar more clearly._

 _"_ _You don't deserve for this to start fading!" One of them said, hitting the side of his face again._

 _Germany winced hard as the hand in his hair kept him from giving in to the blow. His cheek throbbed, and he knew he wouldn't avoid a bruise._

 _"_ _Why don't we make sure you keep this, Nazi?" The young man grabbing his hair laughed, pulling his head down further._

 _Germany gasped slightly, the strain on his shoulders from his arms being wrapped around and cuffed to the chair becoming more than a little uncomfortable. He struggled as he felt metal against his back, cold, sharp, metal._

 _"_ _Don't-" his voice cut off as his head was pulled back roughly._

 _"_ _What was that?"_

 _Germany said nothing, refusing to look at any of them still. He didn't struggle as the young man pulled his head down again, pressing against his neck. He felt a hand on his shoulder blade, the knife still laid against the scar on his back._

 _"_ _I think I'll just…" One of the young men smiled._

 _Germany closed his eyes tightly, opening his mouth to cry out, but refusing to let the sound escape. He struggled involuntarily, shaking with pain as the blade dug into his skin, moving slowly. He wouldn't cry. Not this time…_

"Ludwig? Ludwig?" His bosses' voice faded into his mind.

Germany looked up, "Sir?" he blinked. Had he fallen asleep?

"You zoned out there, is everything all right?"

Germany nodded, "Of course, sir."

"You were telling us about what happened…"

"Ja… um… I think I told you everything, sir." Germany lied. He hadn't mentioned the scar. Some things were too painful.

"All right, then. I'll have people start working on all of this right away. We will catch them, Germany. I promise we will catch them."

Germany nodded, standing, "If it's all right, sir…"

"Oh, ja, of course!" his boss stood, walking up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder, "Go home. Rest, sleep, eat a good meal. Don't worry about any of this, all right?"

"I don't know if I can do that, but I will try and rest," Germany nodded stiffly. He wasn't sure he could sleep, but he could dry and rest. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about everything, so he didn't bother trying.

"One more thing," his boss motioned to the guards at the door, who let in two men in dark suits. They walked up to Germany and nodded respectfully to him.

Germany turned to look at his boss, somewhat confused, though he had a guess.

"These are your new bodyguards."

He guessed right, "I don't need-"

"Ludwig. You were just kidnapped. I'm giving you bodyguards. No arguing."

Germany sighed, annoyed, "I can take care of myself…"

"I know you can, so more help will only make that easier. I need you protected. They cannot capture you again. They're too close as it is to knowing things they shouldn't…"

Germany nodded, understanding, "All right. Fine. I'll accept the extra protection. But they have to be able to keep up with me."

"That won't be a problem, sir," one of the guards said with a smile.

Germany looked at him, every so slightly amused, "Oh?"

"No, sir. Not a problem, sir."

Germany looked at his boss and nodded, "All right. I'm going home," he turned to his new bodyguards, "What are your names?"

"I'm Hans," The taller one said simply with a nod.

"I'm Fredrick," The dark haired guard smiled a little.

Germany nodded, "Fredrick, Hans, I'm going home. I believe you're going to come with me," he glanced back at his boss, who motioned politely towards the door.

Germany left the room, not turning back to look at his new bodyguards. He knew he didn't them, but he wasn't thrilled about the idea of needing protection, especially from humans.

Italy was waiting for him when he got home. The redhead grinned, running up to him as he walked in the door. He put his hand up to stop a hug. His back hadn't fully healed, and he knew if Italy hurt him the smaller country would apologize for hours. He didn't have time for that. He smiled at the redhead, putting his hand on his shoulder. He looked down at the other man's clothes suddenly, raising an eyebrow.

"I've been cooking!" Italy said, dusting the flour off his shirt.

"I see that…" Germany shook his head, trying to hide the smile that insisted on being seen, "And what are you making, Italy?"

Italy grinned, "I made you potato and sausage soup! Your meat, my recipe!"

Germany smiled, nodding, "That sounds wonderful!"

Italy beamed, "Ve!" he stopped suddenly, his expression changing from joy to concern, "Germany… who… who are…" he looked up at the men behind Germany.

"Those are my new bodyguards," Germany resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "They're here to protect me from RAF."

"Good!" Italy smiled, "Good, I want you safe…I… I think I made enough soup for four people. I guess we'll find out!"

"You don't have to feed us, sir-"

"Nonsense!" Italy interrupted Hans, shaking his head, "You're here, and it's time for dinner. You're eating some!" he nodded once, determined, and went to grab more bowls.

Germany glanced back at his bodyguards, "You get used to him," he whispered, turning away from Italy.

"I heard that!" Italy said, turning to look back at Germany, pretending to be annoyed.

Germany rolled his eyes, walking to his place at the head of the table.

Italy placed the additional settings on the table and motioned for the bodyguards to sit. He grinned, stepping back to grab the soup off the stove.

"I really hope you like this, Germany!" he smiled, serving him first.

"I'm sure it's wonderful," Germany nodded, lifting a spoonful of the steaming liquid to his lips. He smiled, "It's delicious. Well done, Feli."

Italy grinned, "Ve!" he dished himself a bowl, set the pot back on the stove to keep warm, and sat down, picking up his spoon.

…

"What's your name?"

"German Democratic Republic."

"What are you?"

"A communist state." GDR's eyes were void of emotion, looking forward.

"And who do you belong to?"

"The Soviet Union. You."

"And the wall, why was it built?"

"To protect me."

"And the people who try and cross the wall, what do they deserve?"

"Death."

"And your brother, what is he?"

"America's dog."

"What are you?"

"Your bird."

"Do you like your cage, Ptitska?"

"Da," GDR nodded, looking up at Russia. He didn't struggle at the cuffs that he'd begged the giant to loosen. He didn't care anymore. He winced as Russia wiped the blood from his cheek.

"Now," Russia asked kindly, "Do you want forgiveness for what happened in Berlin?"

GDR nodded, looking up at Russia.

"Just ask me."

"Please forgive me, Russia… I'm so sorry I tried to help someone over the wall…" he whispered, looking down.

"I forgive you, Ptitska. Of course I do," Russia smiled, "It's over now. But never. do it. again. Is that understood?"

GDR nodded, shaking.

Russia smiled, kneeling beside him, unlocking the cuffs that bound the white-haired country to the wall.

GDR fell forward, his legs numb. He winced as Russia caught him. He didn't want Russia's 'comfort'.

Russia sighed, shaking his head, "I don't like hurting you so much, GDR…" he looked down at the deep bleeding gashes his pipe had left in the white skin. He didn't like it, but it made him smile. He looked down at GDR's legs. He didn't think he'd broken them… he put his hand against the skin, trying to feel the bone.

GDR winced, giving a soft cry of pain.

Russia stopped, looking at him, "Did that hurt?" he asked, concerned. He was trying to be gentle.

GDR nodded, inhaling through his teeth as Russia's hand stayed on his leg.

"I'm sorry, GDR," Russia apologized but continued to feel the bone. He felt a break. He sighed, "I didn't mean to hurt you this badly, Ptitska…" he looked down at GDR's legs again. The other one wasn't broken, just badly bruised. "I'm going to take you upstairs," he said simply, picking up GDR.

Gil struggled a little, refusing to put his arm over Russia's shoulder. It wasn't comfortable leaving it pressed to his side, but it was better than accepting Russia's help. But he needed Russia's help. He winced as his legs burned, even without having to walk up all the steps. Russia carried him into his own room, setting him down in a chair, turning away.

"I'll get Estonia to help you. I have other things to deal with," Russia said without looking back at GDR. He walked through the door and stopped, leaning against the hallway. He sighed. GDR's body was torn and bruised, his face bleeding from a deep cut Russia had left with his knife. He shuddered. What was happening to him? Had he always done this? He looked back at GDR's door but refused to let himself open it. He did what he had to do… but he felt sick. He didn't want to have to look at GDR anymore, turning away from the door. He closed his eyes with a deep sigh and went to find Estonia.

…

 _"_ _Luddy, what are you doing?" Prussia snapped, grabbing his brother's shoulders, "What are you doing!?"_

 _"_ _Gilbert, I have to do this, please don't get involved…"_

 _"_ _Oh, shut up Ludwig, I'm already involved! Why the hell would you want to-"_

 _"_ _You think I want this!" Ludwig pushed his brother's hands off his shoulders, "I don't want any of this, Gil! I don't want my people to be starving in the streets. I don't want my economy so damaged that there are days I can hardly stand! I don't want any of this, Gil, don't you get it that's the point! That's the point I have to do this! I have to, I don't have a choice anymore!"_

 _"_ _Luddy that's not true… there has to be another choice, another man, another-"_

 _"_ _There isn't, Gil. No one else wants to help us, help me… I… I don't have any other choice anymore. Maybe it'll be ok. Maybe nothing bad will happen and everything will be fine in the end-"_

 _"_ _There is NOTHING fine about any of this!" Prussia grabbed his brother's arm as Ludwig turned away again, "Look at me, you can't do this!"_

 _"_ _Gil, I HAVE to. Please, please at least try to understand that. I can't do this anymore, Gil. My people are dying… I'm dying. I don't have a choice…"_

 _Prussia looked into his brother's face. The bright blue eyes looking back at him were terrified, angry, in pain… he closed his eyes. He couldn't look at his brother's face. He said nothing, the room so quiet he almost thought he could hear Ludwig's heart pounding in his chest, but he couldn't hear it over his own. He opened his eyes looking at his brother again._

 _"_ _Ludwig… Ludwig if you do this… I can't protect you… I won't…" he shook his head, swallowing hard, "I won't be able to protect you anymore…"_

 _"_ _I know. I'm sorry, Gil. I'm so sorry. I have to this…"_

 _"_ _He's a monster, Ludwig… please…"_

 _"_ _I know," Germany sighed, looking away, "I know. But, that doesn't change… that doesn't change the fact that I need him. He's going to help. Maybe… maybe it'll all be ok…"_

 _Prussia closed his eyes, refusing to cry._

 _"_ _You don't have to watch…"_

 _"_ _Yes I do," Prussia nodded with a deep sigh._

 _Germany said nothing, pulling his arm away from his brother's hand gently. He looked at Prussia's face. He couldn't tell him how scared he was. He wouldn't let Prussia protect him. He had to do this. He turned to the door in front of him, took a deep breath, and walked inside where his new boss was waiting for him._

Germany touched the scar on his back, looking at it in the mirror. The damage the young RAF members had caused was already healing. He closed his eyes with a sigh. The scar had started to fade. He hated it. He hated everything about it, everything it stood for, everything it had done to him, his people, everyone he cared about, everything he'd tried to be… he looked away from the mirror, walking back to his bed, pulling a black sleeveless shirt over his shoulders, covering the mark. He sat down on his bed, closing his eyes and pressing his hands into his face, leaning down. He would find RAF. He would prove himself. He would prove himself to everyone… especially himself.

* * *

A/N: So... Russia broke Gil again. *sigh* all the fight gone... :/ and he can't walk... again... (learn to keep your mouth shut, Gil... please?) And Germany is dealing with a lot of different emotions, which he's hiding of course. (what else is new?). And a look at how he actually got that scar on his back... emotions everywhere. But Italy made him soup to cheer him up!

As always, thank you all for the reviews! I know, I know, I say that every time... onto answering some questions! This story WILL NOT END WITH THE WALL FALLING! It will continue on through Prussia's recovery, and into close to modern times... (though the 90's and early 2000's for SURE...), so no fear, the story isn't done yet! Possibly not even half done... we'll see. I'm certainly planning for well over 100 chapters. (but we'll see, as I said. XD) Tonight my mom and I made a full 18th-century meal (hi mom! ;) ) And it was so amazing, so I will share! Rabbit Stew, Salad with 18th-century dressing, Switchel (basically old fashioned ginger ale without the carbonation...), and 1767 bread pudding! Delicious, I promise! :)


	63. Chapter 63: Trying

Chapter 63

Gil opened the car door, sliding in and laying across the leather seat, cranking down the window and letting his feet rest in the open space. He turned the key, starting the car, sighing deeply, lifting a cigarette to his lips. He lit it, leaning back against the leather, taking a few deep inhales of the smoke before sitting up again, turning to the bottle of vodka he'd brought with him. He took a deep drink, letting it burn down his throat. He turned on the radio, cranking it as loud as it would go, and laid back against the seat, taking another long inhale of the smoke, closing his eyes and just listening to the music. It was so loud the seat buzzed against his back. He smirked, taking another drink, bringing the cigarette to his lips again. He didn't care. He couldn't hear Russia calling him if he wanted to. An hour. All he wanted was an hour…

He winced, feeling someone knocking on his boots. He opened his eyes reluctantly, sitting up, pulling his feet out of the window.

"Estonia?" he asked, confused.

The tall blond country nodded, opening the door and sitting beside Gil. He pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket, lit it, and leaned back against the leather seats, glancing at Gil, "May I join you?"

Gil stared at him for a moment, then shrugged, "Sure. I don't care." he moved his legs to give Estonia more room and offered him the bottle of vodka, which the country took.

Estonia handed the bottle back to Gil and glanced at the radio, "Punk music? Really, Gil? You could get in trouble…"

"Punk, rock, metal… yeah, look how much I care!" Gil rolled his eyes, turning the music up louder. He glanced at Estonia who shrugged, sitting back, listening to the music with what appeared to be a very faint smile. "You like this?" Gil pointed to the radio, sitting up and starting at Estonia.

Estonia nodded, "Yes," he smirked, not looking at Gil.

"What?" Gil asked slowly, still looking at Estonia. There was something the blond wasn't telling him.

Estonia only smiled.

"Oh come on! You can't always be mute," he took another long drink of the vodka, clearing his throat as he finished nearly half the bottle.

"I thought you hated that," Estonia kept his arms crossed over his chest, lifting his hand onto to smoke. He kept his eyes closed, not turning towards Gil.

"Yeah I do, it's just better than nothing. Alcohol is better than no alcohol. Every time," Gil shook his head with a smile, leaning back again, listening to the music.

"You know…" Estonia said after the song finished and another began, "Russia doesn't pay that much attention to me…"

"Lucky a-"

"Let me finish," Estonia said almost sternly.

Gil rolled his eyes, motioning for Estonia to continue.

"Do you know what that means?" Estonia smirked.

"What?" Gil had to resist the urge not to roll his eyes again.

"It means I managed to get a hold of the new AC/DC album," Estonia said flatly.

Gil turned to look at him instantly, grinning like a kid, "You did not!"

Estonia glanced at him with a slight smile, "Oh yes, I did."

"Well?" Gil said after less than three seconds of silence, "Are you going to tell me about it? Is it good?"

Estonia nodded.

"I seriously don't care if he kills me for it, I want to hear it."

Estonia shrugged, "We could figure something out…"

"What's your price?" Gil crossed his arms over his chest, still looking at Estonia.

"Help Poland."

Gil sighed deeply, looking away, taking another inhale of the smoke, breathing it out slowly, "That's um… Russia gave me orders…"

"Since when has that stopped you?" Estonia half laughed dryly, rolling his eyes, pushing up his glasses.

"Good point…" Gil shrugged, still not looking at Estonia.

"What'd he tell you?"

"That if Poland doesn't have his own country under control by winter, we… he and I are going to make sure Poland… listens…" Gil sighed, turning away, taking another drink.

Estonia closed his eyes, sighing, "And by making him listen…?" he didn't really need to ask, but he wanted to hear Gil admit it.

"Yeah," Gil leaned back with another deep sigh, "He said he can use his pipe, and I can use… barbed wire… I…" Gil shook his head, closing his eyes, "I don't want to… I can't… I can't do it…" _not again…_ Gil glanced back at Estonia, then away.

Estonia said nothing, trying to think. He reached for the vodka, leaning back and drinking almost half of what was left. He sighed, handing the bottle back to Gil, "So if Russia ordered you to, you wouldn't?"

Gil didn't answer, turning off the radio and going to open the door.

"Help Poland Gil. He needs help. Lithuania can't do this on his own… he's… he's going to get himself hurt."

"Since when did you start caring?" Gil snapped, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind him.

Estonia sighed, picked up the vodka bottle Gil had left, and finished it. _I've always cared…_

…

Poland coughed hard, bringing his hands to his face, rolled on the bed, laying on his side. The coughing grew harder until he couldn't breathe, trying to inhale enough to cough again, his lungs aching in his chest. He sat up, leaning on his arm, trying to steady the cough enough to breathe, tears streaming down his cheeks. Finally, he took a deep gasping breath, letting himself fall back onto the bed, exhausted, wiping the sweat and tears off his face. He turned to look at the water glass on the nightstand, debating if it was worth it to use the energy to reach for it. His hands were shaking so badly he didn't know if he would even be able to grip the cup. He closed his eyes, turning away from the glass.

"Here."

Poland turned suddenly as a white hand held the glass towards him. He looked up to Gil's face, "What… what are you doing here?"

Gil said nothing, nodding to the glass, "You looked like you needed this."

Poland nodded, taking the cup carefully, not wanting to touch Gil's hand, "Danke."

Gil smiled, surprised, "Bitte."

Poland sat up, sliding up the bed to sit against the headboard, and carefully took a drink, nearly dropping the glass as his lunges heaved with another cough. He felt Gil grab the cup from his hand. He was too busy trying to breathe to care that Gil touched him. He felt the man's hand on his back, the touch gentle, almost comforting as he coughed until he cried again. He brushed the tears away from his eyes with his wrist, turning to look at Gil, who pulled his hand away.

"What… what time is it?" Poland asked, looking around the room.

"Almost three in the morning."

"What are you doing up?" Poland looked at Gil, somewhere between annoyed and curious.

"I could hear you."

"Sorry," Poland said, somewhere between sarcastic and genuine.

Gil sighed, tossing a bottle of medicine on Poland's legs over the covers, "here."

"What is…" Poland picked up the bottle, turning it to read the label. It was supposed to help with heavy coughing. He looked up at Gil, confused, "You're… being nice to me?" He tuned, coughing into his elbow, then looking back at Gil.

"Yeah, guess I figured I owe you one?" Gil shrugged.

"Yep," Poland looked up at him, his eyes still carrying more pain than Gil knew what to do with, but there was a spark in them. A tiny speck of fire.

"I'm sorry, Feliks… I'm… I'm still sorry…" he turned away.

"I know…" Poland sighed deeply, then immediately tried to stop the heavy cough that rose into his throat. He failed, leaning forward, gasping again.

Gil put his hand on the smaller country's back again, trying to be reassuring, grabbing one of the tissues from the nightstand and slipping it into Poland's hand.

Poland pressed the tissue to his eyes as he stopped coughing, his breath still shaky and choked. He looked up at Gil, glancing at Gil's arm but not asking him to move it.

Gil drew his hand away, sighing, "How are you doing?"

"I'll be fine. And yes, I'll be fine my December. You can go report to Russia now," Poland said, turning away and laying back down.

"I'm not here from Russia," Gil almost snapped, "I'm here because believe it or not, I'm actually sorry and I actually do kinda care about you!"

Poland rolled back to look at Gil for a moment, then turned away again. "Sure. Thanks."

"Feliks…" Gil tried to think of what to say, "Feliks, stop it!"

Poland turned to look at him again, sitting up, staring at him, shocked, "What?"

"Stop it. It's been… what? How many years now…?"

Poland looked away, "You honestly think I can ever forgive you for-" he closed his eyes with a sigh, "I can't, Gil. I've tried. Believe it or not, I actually, like, kind of want to forgive you… but…" he shook his head, "I can't. I can't, not yet…"

"Well I'm going to keep trying to help you until you can," Gil said, determined, nodding once.

Poland looked up into Gil's face. He wasn't sure if he believed him. He wanted to. He really really wanted to. "You really didn't know…?"

Gil shook his head, "I really didn't know."

Poland nodded, looking down, "And if you had…"

Gil closed his eyes.

"Would you have stopped it?" Poland looked up at him.

Gil sighed deeply, shaking his head, "I don't know… I really don't know… high on nationalism, drunk on promises… It's not an excuse, I know, but… Luddy and I weren't thinking. We weren't, we didn't care. It just… it felt good to be so powerful, so strong… everything Hit- everything _he_ said… all his promises, we didn't know how he planned to achieve the 'greatness' he promised… if we had… God, I pray we would have stopped it… but… I… I don't know… I don't know…" He looked back at Poland, shaking his head, "I really don't know… yes? I hope so, I…"

Poland said nothing for a moment, turning to look away from Gil, biting his lip, "And… now?"

"Now I'd stop in a heartbeat. If I could go back in time and change everything I would do it. I'd do it if it killed me… permanently!" Gil brought his hands to his arms, looking down, sighing deeply.

Poland turned to look at him again, "Isn't that one of the 'country perks'? Having to live with your mistakes over the past thousand years…"

Gil half laughed nodding, "'perks' sure…"

Poland smiled sadly, looking down, "I guess that's just how it works for us. Old wounds heal, generations change, new wounds added, generations change again, people make the same mistakes as their grandfathers did-"

"And sometimes they learn from them!" Gil stopped him, "Sometimes people work hard to make sure it never, _ever_ happens again…"

Poland looked up at him with a slight smile, nodding, "Yeah… yeah, and it's good that happens…" he tried to keep down a cough, failing again. Gil handed him the glass of water again, which he took gratefully, looking back up at him, "We heal with our people, and mine are finally getting stronger, Gil. They are…" He leaned forward again, coughs shaking his entire body until tears streamed down his cheeks again.

"Really?" Gil asked, handing him another tissue.

Poland nodded, taking a deep breath as the coughing stopped, "Really! And when they're done figuring this out, I'm going to leave. I'm totally getting out of here! I don't care how long it takes. Russia doesn't scare me. My people are getting strong enough to fight. He can't win forever…"

Gil sighed deeply, resisting the urge to glance at his arm, "Good for you, Feliks," he nodded, taking the empty glass from the blond country, "I'll get you more water." Gil took the cup downstairs to the kitchen and filled it, bringing it back up to Poland, who was still sitting up when he returned. He set the glass on the nightstand, turning to walk out of the room. Light caught metal lying on top of the dresser. Gil glanced back at Poland and walked to the object, picking it up. He bit his lip, turning, holding the razor up to Poland. "Why do you…"

"It's Liet's…" Poland sighed, coughing hard again, looking back at Gil with a smile, "He gave it to me."

"What?" Gil asked, confused. He couldn't imagine Lithuania being willing to part with it.

"He's getting stronger too, Gil. He gave it to me because he knows I won't give it back, or let him take it back."

Gil set the razor back on the dresser with a sigh. "He really gave it to you so he would stop…" he didn't want to finish.

Poland smiled, "Yeah. Like I said, he's getting stronger too"

"Do you think he'll actually stop?" Gil closed his eyes.

"I don't know… it won't be easy… butte's trying… and, that's better than not trying." Poland smiled.

Gil nodded, turning to look at Poland again, "I'm still sorry, Feliks."

"Someday, Gil, I think I will be able to… forgive you… but… I'm just like… trying. Ok?"

Gil smiled sadly, nodding, "Yeah. Yeah, I understand… we're all just trying, Feliks. I think that's the best we can do here."

Poland nodded, "Just don't give you. You should… you should keep trying too."

Gil looked up at him, sighing deeply, "No promises."

"Not accepted. Try again." Poland shook his head, crossing his arms.

"And why do you care?" Gil almost snapped, not sure if he was irritated or grateful.

"Because sometimes I'm almost as much of an idiot as you are, Gil."

"Thanks," Gil rolled his eyes with a half laugh and a smirk.

"Seriously though. Don't give up, K?"

Prussia sighed deeply, shrugging and nodded, "Sure. I'll _try._ "

"Good!" Poland nodded, laying back down, "I'm tired now," he paused, "Thanks for helping me."

Prussia nodded, walking out of the room without another word. He wasn't sure he could keep trying, but he wasn't going to stop.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! I've been sick, and it was my brother's birthday. Two good excuses I do believe! As it is, author's notes are brief because It's past 1 in the morning, and I need to sleep lol. That's how I will get better and not be sick! XD

As always, I LOVE reading your reviews! We're flying through the 300's so fast! Wow guys! Thank you so much! Cookies for everyone!


	64. Chapter 64: Unpredictable

Chapter 64

Italy nearly jumped out of bed as a fist pounded on his door. He ran to open the door, looking up into Fredrick's worried face.

"What… Is Germany ok…? Is Germany ok!?" Italy's breath shook.

Fredrick said nothing, only motioning for Italy to follow him urgently.

Italy ran.

Hans sat next to Germany, holding the phone to his ear, trying to talk to the other agents, trying to figure out what was going on. He took Germany's wrist with his free hand, sighing as he felt a pulse. He wished the rhythm was stronger, but he was relieved it was there. He looked to the door as Italy rushed inside, throwing himself on the ground beside Germany, grabbing his shoulders, trying to wake him.

"Germany!?" Italy begged, "Germany, wake up. Please, please wake up!" he turned to look at Hans, terrified, "What's going on? What's happening to him!?"

"I'm trying to find out Italy, I'm trying to find out…" Hans shushed him, covering his free ear, trying to listen to the voice on the other end of the phone.

Tears streamed down Italy's face as he felt his friend's neck, trying to feel for a pulse, trying to convince himself that he would be ok. "Germany, please…"

Hans closed his eyes with a deep sigh and hung up the phone, "An Airplane has been hijacked, and they're demanding the release of the RAF leaders we've captured…"

Italy froze, turning to look at Hans, "How many hostages…?" he whispered.

"86."

Italy opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't, turning back to Germany, putting his hand on his friend's. "Germany… please be ok… please, please be ok…" he turned to look back at Hans and Fredrick, "What are you doing? Why are you just standing there! Help! Do something! Please!" he begged.

"We're supposed to stay here and protect him, Signore, Vargas. We need to stay here."

"NO YOU DON'T!" Italy stood, clenching his hands into fists, "You don't need to stay here! You need to help him! You're supposed to protect him…" Italy turned back to Germany, trying to wake him, "Come on, Germany, come on… wake up… please…"

…

Lithuania leaned against the counter, setting down his knife for a moment. His back stung. Russia had left welts, not wounds, and it wasn't exactly painful, but it was less than comfortable. He stretched his shoulders, closing his eyes, letting it burn across his back. He relaxed, the pain easing off enough for him to concentrate on cooking again. He picked up the knife and looked at the blade slowly, closing his eyes with a sigh, then looking back at the potatoes on the cutting board. He made short work of them, dropping them into the pot of boiling water and turning towards the beautiful dark red cabbage. He nearly dropped the knife as he heard a familiar step coming closer. He bit his lip, praying the man wasn't interested in coming into the kitchen. He was wrong.

Russia walked through the doorway of the kitchen and up to Lithuania, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Lithuania winced, shaking, wiping his hands on his apron, trying to appear calm rather unsuccessfully. "M-Mr. Russia…what…" he swallowed hard, trying to steady his voice, "What can I do for you?" he winced hard as Russia hugged him. He could smell the alcohol on the other man's breath.

"How drunk are you…?" Lithuania whispered, trying to pry Russia off him. Was Russia really…crying? "What's wrong?" he grabbed a towel and handed it to Russia, who took it to wipe the tears. "Russia-" Lithuania started before Russia's hug cut off his words. It was suffocating, and he trembled with fear and pain. Russia was drunk enough to be unpredictable, and unpredictability made him nervous. He managed to push Russia away gently and looked into his face.

"Russia, are you all right? Did something happen?"

Russia said nothing, looking down, shaking his head, "Nyet…"

"What's bothering you…?" Lithuania had to stop him from hugging him again, "How drunk are you?"

Russia held up four fingers.

"Four bottles of vodka? Is that what you're telling me?" Lithuania sighed. He wasn't surprised, but he wasn't happy about it, "Why'd you start? What happened?"

"I saw my bosses today…" Russia said, slurring the words.

Lithuania nodded, "Ah-"

"They said none of you want to stay… that you're going to try and run away… that you don't want to be here. It's good here, isn't it? I'm not unkind to you…?" Russia looked up, pain in his eyes.

Lithuania sighed again, his back still stinging as it brushed against the fabric of his shirt, the marks angered by Russia's firm hug. He said nothing, looking up into Russia's face.

"Did I hurt you again? Please… I don't like hurting anyone. I wouldn't hurt anyone…" Russia's face was worried. He put his hand on Lithuania's shoulder again, drawing it back as the man winced. "L-Litva?"

Lithuania looked away, "I'm fine."

"You didn't answer me… did I hurt you?"

Lithuania sighed. Every time Russia got this drunk he had to go through this again. Every time he had to watch the pain in the violet eyes as he told him, or showed him, the damage he'd done. He hated it. Every single time he hated it. He looked up at Russia and nodded, looking away again.

"I'm sorry…" Tears slipped down Russia's cheeks again before he brought the towel to them again, "I'm so sorry… I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone. Please… please…" Russia looked back at him, "Please tell me you don't really want to leave! You like it here, da?"

Lithuania bit his lip. He wasn't sure what was more dangerous, telling Russia the truth, or lying. He looked up into Russia's face. "I… I don't know." It wasn't the truth, but it wasn't quite lying. He didn't want to stay, but he didn't exactly want to leave either.

"And the others… do you think they want to leave?" Russia asked, his voice shaking.

"I don't know that either," Lithuania shook his head, "You… you can be cruel, Ivan. Sometimes…"

Russia looked away with a heavy sigh. He walked to one of the cupboards and opened it, taking out another bottle of vodka.

Lithuania ran up to him, putting his hand on the bottle, trying to stop him, "Mr. Russia, please…"

"Let go, Toris!" Russia grabbed his wrist, giving him a hard shove back, stopping suddenly to look at him, horror in his eyes, "Did I just… did I hurt you?"

Lithuania stared at him, rubbing his wrist where the iron grip had brushed it. He shook his head, "I'm fine."

Russia smiled faintly, "Khorosho…" he nodded, closing the cupboard, the bottle still in his hand.

"You shouldn't have another one…" Lithuania looked away, glancing back at the half chopped cabbage on the cutting board.

"I don't care," Russia shook his head, walking back towards the door. He stopped, turning back to look at Lithuania, "Don't leave, Toris. I don't want you to leave. I need you here… you understand this, da?"

Lithuania closed his eyes with a sigh, then nodded, "Da."

"Khorosho!" Russia nodded back with a smile, opening the bottle and taking a long drink before capping it again and walking back down the hall towards his room.

Lithuania turned back to the counter, leaning against it, covering his face with his hands, shaking, gasping for breath, his heart pounding in his chest. _Breathe, just breathe, Toris, just breathe…_ he tried to calm down, tried to reassure his own mind that he was all right. Russia hadn't hurt him. He was fine. He was going to be fine. He glanced back at the door, shaking again as he heard a sound. It was Latvia. He smiled at him, trying to hide the panic that still attacked his chest.

"L-L-L-Litva?" Latvia bit his lip, walking up to Lithuania, "M-Mr Russia… he's… he's he's he's really drunk, isn't he?"

Lithuania nodded, then leaned down to look into the boy's face, putting his hands on his shoulders gently, just in case, "Did he hurt you? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Litva… I'm worried about you."

Lithuania stood, shaking his head, "I'm fine too."

"Why is Mr. Russia so mean sometimes!" Latvia shook his head, turning to the counter, "Can I help?"

"Sure," Lithuania motioned towards the cutting boards and knives, "The onions need to be chopped up if you think you can handle that."

"I only look like a baby, Litva. I can chop onions!" Latvia said almost indignantly.

Lithuania smiled a little, nodding, "All right, then get started!" he smirked.

Latvia smiled back, taking the onions and starting to peel the skin off of them, "Litva…" he said as he finished peeling the second to last bulb.

"Hmm?" Lithuania asked almost absentmindedly, stirring the boiling water with the cabbages and potatoes. The cabbage was staining the water and potatoes a rich, dark blue, and it was starting to smell good.

"Why is there a knife missing?"

"What?" Lithuania froze, not turning to look at Latvia.

"There's a knife missing. There aren't any dishes in the sink to be washed, and there's a knife missing in the block, look!" he pointed, waiting for his friend to turn.

Lithuania set down the spoon he'd been using for the cabbage water, and walked back to the counter, looking at the block where Latvia pointed, "It… it looks like there is, yes." The paring knife was gone.

"Russia will be angry! We have to find it!" Latvia trembled.

"I'll find it. Don't worry, Latvia, I'll find it…" Lithuania tried to calm the boy, "It'll be ok…"

"He'll hurt you! He'll hurt you if we don't find it!" Latvia shook his head, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I'll find it! Don't worry about it!" Lithuania put his hands on Latvia's shoulders, "Just calm down, please…"

Latvia nodded, trying to breathe normally, trying to stop crying, "I hate it here, Litva… I hate it…"

Lithuania bit his lip, closing his eyes, sighing deeply, "Yeah, me too."

Latvia looked up at him, then back at the stack of the onions, "I should finish those…"

Lithuania sighed, nodded, "Sure, if you want."

Latvia nodded, pulling away from Lithuania, turning back to the cutting board and picking up one of the large knives.

Lithuania turned back to the stove, opening the lid of the other, larger, pot, checking the beets. The water was a beautiful dark reddish purple, and the beets were growing tender. He smiled, replacing the lid and turning back to the cabbage water, instinctively checking the edges of his sleeves with his fingers to make sure his wrists were covered. He reached for the spoon again, poking at the potatoes. They were almost soft enough to add the first pot into the second, after draining most of the cabbage water. Lithuania glanced back at Latvia, who was just finishing the onions and touched his own sleeve again, wincing a little. _I'm fine._

…

Italy leaned on his folded hands, sitting in a chair next to Germany's bed. He didn't take his eyes off his friend's face. _Please, please wake up…_ he brushed tears away, turning to look at Hans and Fredrick. Hans was on the phone again, and Fredrick had a pen and paper, working out statistics. He didn't look happy. Italy bit his lip, looking back at Germany, standing suddenly, grabbing the man's hand.

"Germany!?" He said, his eyes widening with hope.

Germany groaned, frowning, gripping Italy's hand a little.

Italy's expression changed to worry, "He's in pain…" he looked up at Fredrick, "a lot of it…"

"He looks all right," Fredrick turned back to his papers after glancing up.

Italy shook his head, "No! He's my friend and I've known him longer than you've been alive! He's in pain and I'm not going to let you do nothing! Stop it! Why won't either of you two help!?"

"We are helping!" Fredrick tried to reassure Italy, "There's just nothing we can do to help him, physically, until we figure out how to rescue all those people! We _are_ working, Italy."

Italy turned back to Germany, wiping the sweat off his friend's forehead, "Germany? Can you hear me?"

Germany nodded weakly.

"Do you know what's going on?"

Germany shook his head, the movement still faint.

"There… there's…" Italy tried to figure out how to say it, "A plane has been captured. They want an exchange. 86 people, for the RAF leaders in prison…"

Germany opened his eyes, looking into Italy's face, "The ones _I_ captured…?"

Italy bit his lip, nodding.

Germany closed his eyes. Another thing he could blame himself for. Another thing that was his fault. "Would they take me instead?" he whispered.

"What?" Italy said, shocked, "What?"

Germany turned to look at Hans and Fredrick, "Tell…" he swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment as pain almost overwhelmed him, "Tell my boss that RAF can have me if they let those people off the plane…" he closed his eyes again, exhausted.

Hans looked at Fredrick who looked at Italy. Italy shook his head, turning back to Germany.

"No! You can't do this! You can't!"

Germany nodded, "If I have to. I will."

Italy looked back at the two men, "You can't let him do this!"

"As his bodyguards," Hans stated, "We would advise against it…"

"But?" Italy knew it was coming.

"But he might be right. That might protect the most people…"

"Find. Another. Way…. please…" Italy bit his lip, turning back to Germany, "Please…"

* * *

A/N: Another chapter! Yay! I'm sorry the upload schedule has slowed down so much. Being sick, I've been quite tired. But I thought I would give you all a chapter now, and possibly tonight as well if I can! We shall see!

Germany is sick from the Lufthansa Flight 181, where 86 people were held as hostages by 'Commando Martyr Halima" a group of 4 men whose goal it was to secure the release of imprisoned RAF leaders. I am taking some liberties with the event, but I am trying to remain as close to history as possible here. Poor Germany...

Lithuania is making borscht, (shocking, I know), so I will share it with all of you! It's quite an easy soup to make. (I recommend flavoring it with plenty of paprika!). If you all haven't tried making it... you should! XD And as for Liet... he could be doing better... that's for sure... :/

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated! I love reading them and replying to them! You guys make my day!


	65. Chapter 65: Value

Chapter 65

Gisela looked towards the door of her apartment as she heard a gentle knock. She recognized it as her brother. She sighed deeply, grabbing a loose dark blue sweater and throwing it on, wrapping her arms around herself. She opened the door slowly, bringing her arms back around her arms,

"Cort?" She looked at him, upset. Standing next to her brother was another man, taller, with blond curls that brushed his shoulders. His face was handsome, and the kindness in his eyes was so tangible she had to look away. "Cort, um…" she looked back up at the man beside her brother, "Look, um…"

"Francis," he nodded politely.

"Francis, I'm sorry I don't want to see any-"

"Gisela, he's here to help you, please…" Cort whispered, almost begging her.

Gisela looked at her brother, _Really, Cort? You really think a_ man _can help me? Really?_ She sighed deeply, motioning for both of them to come inside. She noticed that the Francis offered her brother his arm to help him through the doorway. Maybe he wasn't that bad. She saw a bag in the man's other hand. She looked at it curiously but said nothing. She watched as Francis lead her brother to one of the soft living room chairs, and then turned back to her, offering his hand. She reached forward slowly, trying to conceal how much her hand was trembling.

"Oh, please, don't feel obligated," Francis smiled, drawing his hand away and again nodding politely, "Please, allowing me to properly introduce myself," he said, smiling as he spoke with a smooth, thick accent, "My name is Francis Bonnefoy, though, I think perhaps it would mean more to you, to say that I am 'France'?"

Gisela's eyes widened in sudden realization, "You… You're a country…?"

France nodded, smiling still, "Oui. I hope this does not upset you, Mademoiselle?"

"No. No, it's fine. I'm… I'm sorry I'm just a bit awkward…" She bit her lip. The man's blue eyes were so wonderfully kind she wasn't quite sure how to respond. It was like he knew her. She looked at her brother quizzically, trying to figure out why he'd brought France to her apartment.

"Non, not awkward at all, we've only just met, and here I am in your house with no previous notice, at your brother's request of course," France nodded to Cort, then turned back to Gisela, "Now, I have a gift for you. Cort has told me that you recently escaped back over the wall. First, may I ask if your arm is healing well?"

Gisela nodded, touching her arm where the bandage was covered by the full sleeves of the sweater.

"Oh, I am very glad to hear that," France smiled again, looking into her face.

Gisela nodded, looking away. She wasn't used to having anyone look at her so intently in conversation. It was like she was the only person in the room to him as they spoke. She looked back up at him, trying to force herself to keep her eyes on his face. She noticed again how beautiful he was, not even handsome, beautiful, almost angelic.

"Ah, but I said I had a gift for you," France grinned. "You are to relax, sit down, enjoy a glass of wine, and I'm going to make us dinner, if that is all right, of course."

Gisela stared, forcing her mouth to stay closed, "France himself wants to cook _me_ dinner? In _that_ kitchen?" Gisela pointed at the small apartment kitchen. The single counter-top was just barely over a meter long, and half as deep. There was, however, a full four-burner gas stove, with a very nice oven.

"There is nothing wrong with your kitchen, Gisela, don't worry," France shook his head.

Gisela smiled at how he pronounced her name. She'd never heard it that way before. She liked it. She nodded, "Of course, please, help yourself to anything you need. I don't have a lot of, cooking stuff, but… well, what I do have you're of course free to use!" She nodded.

France smiled, "Merci!" he turned to the bag he'd brought in and started taking out the food, setting it onto the counter. Chicken thighs, bacon, mushrooms, pearl onions, more onions, tomatoes, carrots, garlic, mussels, baguettes, red wine, white wine, rich cream, and… snails?

Gisela blinked, staring as France took out a small container of shells. She looked up at him, shocked.

He smiled, holding back a laugh, "You are not afraid to eat these, now are you?" he grinned, smirking with a slight wink, "I promise you'll like it. If you don't, I promise to come back and make you something else!"

"You won't come back anyway?" Gisela smiled.

France grinned, "Oui if you'll have me."

"So far so good," Gisela smiled, turning back to her brother, stepping into the living room. "So… you brought… France, to see me?"

Cort nodded.

Gisela sighed, sitting down on the couch. She'd hoped to see a smile on her brother's face, but instead, he looked serious.

"Gisela…" he started, trying to find the words.

"If you're going to lecture me, just don't, please…" Gisela looked away.

"I'm not, I promise," Cort sighed, "Gisela, I care about you a lot, and I know Germany promised to help you, and trust me, what Ludwig says, he does. He will help. But… what… what happened… I wanted to help you. I wanted to find someone I could trust, someone who might be able to… help…"

Gisela didn't look back at her brother, "Help? Help with what? Help, because I'm a poor little thing that needs comfort? Help, because I choose to do something so horrible to keep from starving that now I can't live a normal life unless I get some help?" She looked back at him, "What if I choose this? What if I'm not… angry? What if everything is just fine…" she buried her face in her hands, trying to block out the memory of the first time she'd looked in the mirror in months at the hotel room Gil had given her. How thin she'd become, how badly bruised her hips and ribs had been. She wanted it to go away. She didn't want to talk about it anymore.

"Please, Gisela… Francis might surprise you. Just…try and listen to him…please?" Cort looked into his sister's eyes, begging.

Gisela sighed deeply, looking into her brother's face, "Ok. But if he starts guilt tripping me-"

"He won't. I promise."

"Well if he does… then he's leaving."

"Ja. Understood," Cort smiled gently.

"Ok. Ok, good," Gisela stood, walking back into the kitchen, "Can I help with anything?"

"Mmhmm," France nodded, in the middle of licking some sauce off his finger. He turned to the sink to wash his hands, "You could chop those onions for me, do you know how, love?"

Gisela turned to look at him quickly at the affectionate name, opening her mouth, though she wasn't sure it was to protest.

"Oh, sorry," France turned back to her, shaking his head, "Habit. Did I upset you?" he reached up to put his hand on her back, but stopped himself, wiping it unnecessarily on the towel on his shoulder instead.

Gisela shook her head with a smile, "No. No, I'm all right." She noticed his almost awkward motion, "It's ok if you touch my shoulder. I don't mind."

France smiled, laying his hand on her shoulder gently, kindly, "I'm glad to know it doesn't bother you. If it ever does, you'll tell me, won't you?"

Gisela smiled, "Ja… um… oui."

France grinned, "Merci, now, onions?"

Gisela giggled, nodding.

…

Gil knocked on Russia's door, closing his hands behind his back, shivering with cold. He tried to tell himself the shaking was from the air, not fear. He jumped as Russia opened the door himself, instead of calling for him to enter.

"Y-You asked to see me, si-comrade?" GDR said without looking at Russia.

"Da, come inside," Russia motioned him in.

Gil stepped into Russia's office, trying to look authoritative, trying to look less terrified than he was.

"Please, sit," Russia motioned towards the chair on the other side of his desk as he sat at his usual place.

Gil looked at Russia, swallowing hard. He had to sit down? What was this? What was going on? He obeyed, sitting down slowly, not relaxing at all, resting his hands on his legs. He looked up at Russia, "Well? W… what's going on?" he set his jaw, trying to keep the slight hint of nagging panic pushed to the back of his mind.

"There's been a development with the RAF. And I thought you should hear it from me."

Gil bit his lip for a moment, nodding, "All right, what is it?" He tried to brace himself. Did they have his brother again? He'd do anything. He'd let Russia do anything…

"Friends and sympathizers of the RAF have captured a plane with 86 people on it. They're demanding an exchange. The 86 lives, for all the leaders your brother captured from the RAF after his kidnapping. Your brother had volunteered to go in a hostage exchange instead of releasing the RAF leaders. Everyone is still negotiating and deliberating. There's been no word yet on a decision," Russia shook his head with a sigh.

Gil said nothing, too shocked to speak. He stared at the dark wood of Russia's desk, trying to focus, trying to process what he'd just heard. He stood suddenly, "What are you orders, sir? What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing. Nothing yet. If your brother get's involved…" Russia sighed, shaking his head, "Let's hope that doesn't happen. I'd like it if the RAF leaders were exchanged much more. Your brother's capture, again, would pose a significant risk to all the personifications, don't you think?"

Gil nodded, looking away.

"And his capture would be far less helpful for you, I think. You would do much better with RAF let free in West Germany, da?"

Gil swallowed hard, saying nothing.

"You do like, RAF, don't you, GDR?"

Gil closed his eyes for a moment, nodding, setting his jaw.

"Khorosho. You know they're on our side, that is good."

Gil felt sick. He wanted to do something, he needed to do something, "Is… do you know if Ludwig is ok…? Is he hurt?"

"I've heard nothing. It doesn't matter, he's alive anyway," Russia sighed, "Now, I've told you what I needed to tell you, go. I'll call you again if you're needed. Send Lithuania in here, please. I need to speak to him."

Gil sighed again, nodding, walking out the door to find Lithuania. He shook his head. He didn't want to have to send Lithuania in there. At least Russia seemed calm.

…

"Well?" France asked, looking at Gisela, "What do you think?"

"It's… actually delicious!" Gisela smiled, stabbing her fork into the escargot again.

France grinned, "I am very glad to hear it. I'll have to teach you how to make it someday."

"Would I… have to touch snails? Live snails?"

Francis laughed, "Non! Non, not alive! You saw me with the shells only in that dish, the snails are canned and expertly prepared. That is the easiest way."

Gisela smiled, nodding, "I'm willing to learn."

"I'm really am glad to hear it. Cooking is good for the soul, I think," he smiled.

Gisela nodded, turning back to her plate. She knew it was coming. She tried to brace herself.

"There," France smiled with a long sigh, "Now that dinner is finished…" he paused for a moment, "Perhaps it is best if we sit in the living room?" he stood, motioning towards the couches.

Gisela followed him, watching her brother follow behind her. She sat in the chair. She didn't want to sit next to Francis, or her brother. It felt too close. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to push down the dread that threatened to ruin the incredible dinner she'd been given. She didn't look at France as he sat down.

"Gisela?" France said, his voice so gentle and so kind that Gisela had to force down a choke that rose into her throat.

Out of the corner of her eye, Gisela saw both of France's hands extended towards her. She looked up at him, slowly, carefully, putting her hands in his and trying to look into his face.

Francis smiled softly, swallowing a catch in his voice.

Gisela forced herself not to look away. There were tears in his eyes.

"Gisela you are so…" He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his voice, "You are so strong," he said, looking back up into her eyes, "You are so strong. And you are beautiful…"

Gisela looked down, starting to pull her hands away.

"Non, non I don't mean just on the outside, please," France held her hands more firmly, though made it clear he wouldn't stop her if she did pull away. She left her hands in his, "You are beautiful because after all, you've been through, you still smile. Your eyes still sparkle with hope. You haven't given up. That takes courage, and courage is beautiful," France smiled.

Gisela looked up at him, "You're not going to yell at me?"

"What I do that? Why would I yell at you for surviving hell? Why would I be angry with you?"

"I don't know because I'm a-"

"Non. Stop." France shook his head, "You aren't. Not anymore. Not unless you choose to be, and sweet girl…"

"Aren't you the country of 'love'?" Gisela shook her head, "Don't tell me you've never been with a girl like me, you're hundreds of years old!" She pulled her hands away.

France sighed deeply, "I will tell you the truth. but I need you to believe it."

She nodded, slowly.

"I haven't been," France shook his head, "I wouldn't.

Gisela turned back to him, confused, looking at his hands, still outstretched to her. She laid her hands on his again.

"Dear girl, love isn't something you buy, or you sell, love is something you give. I won't deny that I have given love to many people, but I would never buy love. And it breaks my heart when people try to sell it. It's precious. Something for you, and something for you to give to someone you love."

"You're not angry with me…? Gisela felt tears in her eyes. She wasn't sure she wanted to keep them back.

"Non… non, sweet girl… love, you have been strong. You have done something difficult, and you've survived. But that old life, it isn't you anymore. It's not who you want to be, is it?"

Gisela shook her head.

"Then be free of it. Don't let it own you. You are a masterpiece. You are valuable. Your love is a gift for you to give away, not to be taken from you, not to be sold by you, or anyone else, it's too valuable for that. Look at me…" he reached forward, lifting her chin gently. He sighed with a kind smile, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and slipping it into her hand.

Gisela wiped the tears away from her eyes, "You really… you think I'm still valuable after… after everything… would any man still… want me…?"

"It's not about a man. Don't base your value on that, you'll always be disappointed! Value yourself. You're worth it, I promise. Don't be afraid of what anyone else thinks. Be the person you want to be. Value yourself. Please, you deserve that."

Gisela looked into France's caring blue eyes. She let tears spill over her cheeks as she saw them slip down his as well. "You really think I'm worth anything after… after everything I've done… I…"

"Do you think I am?" France asked, looking into her face.

"What?" Gisela looked at him, silenced by his question.

"I'm a country, as you know. I've done good things, I've done terrible things. Truly terrible things. Every country has their strengths and their weaknesses and every one of us has used both of those things to get what we needed for our people when we needed it. My hands aren't clean, Gisela, but I know my own worth, and that's enough for me. Who cares what anyone else thinks of me?" France smiled, reaching up to brush the tears away from her cheeks, "Do you see that, sweet girl?"

Gisela looked at him steadily, nodding slowly, "A little…"

France smiled, "It takes time. You need time to heal and don't be ashamed to take all the time you need. Value yourself enough for that too, all right?"

Gisela smiled again, nodding.

France smiled, standing, "There, that's been a good talk, and I have a kitchen to clean and a table to clear," he smiled, taking a step towards the table.

"Francis?" Gisela stopped him, standing. She looked at him for a moment and hugged him, leaning on his shoulder, sobbing. She didn't hold anything back. She didn't care. She knew he didn't either. She felt strong arms wrap around her and his cheek press into her hair. He was crying too. She could feel his shoulders shaking gently and hear the catch in this breath. She sobbed, burying her face in the wool of his soft blue sweater. She felt safer in his arms than she had anywhere in a long time. She pulled away from the hug finally, wiping her eyes again, remembering the handkerchief he'd given her. She saw him brush tears away from his own cheeks.

"There. Feel better now?" France smiled, sniffing a little, trying to control the tears that still insisted on coming into his eyes.

Gisela nodded, "Merci, Francis…"

France smiled, putting his hand on her shoulder, "Now, help me clear the table, and then I think we need a big glass of wine each, how does that sound?" France smiled at her, glancing at Cort, who still sat on the couch.

Gisela noticed tears on her brother's face. She ran up to him, hugging him too. "I'm going to be ok, Cort, I promise."

Cort nodded, hugging her back, "I know you are."

"And by the way, you're the best little brother ever, you got that?"

Cort smiled.

* * *

A/N: A little bit of Gil in this chapter, but this chapter was mainly about helping Gisela start to close the door on her part in this story. Dont' worry, we'll hear the conclusion (and there's still more Cort to come!) but her story is mostly done now, and who better to help her than France. (I Reeeeeeeeeealy like writing France guys... like a LOT!) I teared up writing this chapter too. I wish I could tell every girl (and guy!) what France told Gisela.

And Gil finds out about Germany and the RAF plane. This is going to go so well, don't you think?

As always, I LOVE reading all your reviews! You guys are so thorough in your reviews! Thank you so much! Anyway... my husband and I made REALLY delicious ribs for supper today, so I will share. Seriously, best ribs I've ever eaten. 4 hour smoked over whiskey barrel chips, baked and glazed on the grill with BBQ sauce... literally the most amazing thing. yum yum yum. So some for all of you! And other treats! Whatever you like at Barbeques/cook outs! And Lemonaide! yay!


	66. Chapter 66: Bath

Chapter 66

Gil looked at Russia's door, biting his lip, looking back down the hall, then back at the door. He knocked.

"Da, come in," Russia's voice sounded tired.

Gil sighed deeply, and walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

"I didn't expect you, GDR. Is something wrong?"

"I…" Gil closed his eyes for a moment, "I want to stop my brother from being allowed to be taken as a hostage. I… I'll do anything. Let me go to Berlin. Let me work with RAF to get what they want without hurting him, please…"

Russia shook his head, standing, "The last time I sent you to Berlin, what happened?"

Gil said nothing, looking away.

Russia sighed, walking up to Gil, standing to the man's side.

Gil didn't look at Russia, closing his eyes, breathing faster, trying to hide his shaking hands.

"And why do you think I should let you go to Berlin?"

Gil set his jaw, still saying nothing.

"Answer me. Why do you think I should let you go?" Russia snapped.

Gil shivered, "Let me prove myself."

"And how exactly do you think you're going to do that?" Russia almost laughed, shaking his head, taking a step closer to Gil.

"I'll do whatever you want me to do. Anything. What would prove my loyalty to you? Do you want me to cut out my own heart? I'll do it," Gil set his jaw, still not looking at Russia.

Russia looked at him for a moment, trying to think, trying to decide what proof GDR could give him. He smiled. He wasn't going to make it easy.

Gil closed his eyes as Russia held the pipe in front of him.

"Well? Take it," Russia smiled.

Gil forced himself not to sigh, opening his eyes. He took the pipe, finally turning to look at Russia. "And…" he didn't know how to ask.

Russia smiled, "I have a job for you. Estonia has some illegal music in his room, I do believe, but you knew that, didn't you?"

Gil closed his eyes again, nodding, looking back at Russia. "Russland…"

"You said you wanted to prove yourself… you and Estonia both need a lesson I think? And I know you're a good teacher. There isn't a problem, is there? After all, you did say you wanted to prove your loyalty to me, da?"

GDR looked down at the pipe, closing his eyes again. He took a deep breath, looked up and straight ahead, and nodded once. "Ja. And I will."

"Don't be too hard on him," Russia smiled, "I'll come check your work in an hour. I won't be disappointed, da?"

GDR nodded again, setting his jaw, "Do you want me to use only this," he looked down at the pipe again, then turned back to look at Russia, "Or can I use my own methods?"

"I need to see blood," Russia shook his head, "That's the only way the lesson works. There has to be blood."

"There will be," GDR nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on Russia's.

Russia smiled, the same sickeningly childish smile he almost always wore, "Khorosho! Do whatever you want, Ptitska, as I said, I'll see you again in two hours. Go." Russia motioned towards the door.

GDR said nothing, walking out of the office and toward's Estonia's room. He looked at the door for a moment before slamming his fist against it. He looked into Estonia's face as the man opened the door, not sure if he was trying to look angry or sorry.

Estonia looked into GDR's face, an icy chill going down his spine. His eyes traveled down to GDR's hand, and the pipe his fingers were closed around. His eyes shot back up to meet the deep red ones staring back at him. He shook his head, looking down with a sigh.

GDR nodded, "If I want to help my brother, this is what I have to do."

Estonia sighed deeply, nodding. He understood. He opened the door all the way, walked back into his room and took off his jacket. Carefully, he laid it on the bed, and turned back towards the door, walking up to GDR.

"How long?" Estonia asked flatly.

"Two hours," GDR replied, his tone equally emotionless.

"Does he want blood?"

"Ja," GDR nodded once.

"Do I have to cry?" Estonia still looked into GDR's face.

"I don't think so," GDR shook his head, keeping his eyes on Estonia's.

Estonia sighed, looking down. He looked back up at GDR, nodding, "Let's go then. Do what you have to."

GDR nodded back, motioning for Estonia to start towards the stairs. He glanced back towards Russia's door, hate flashing in his eyes. He didn't want to do this. He had to do this. He had to help his brother, no matter what it cost him or anyone else.

…

Hungary opened Poland's door with her back, carrying in a tray of food. She set it down on the nightstand and turned to the bed. Poland was sleeping. She looked at him for a moment, debating whether or not she should wake him. He looked peaceful, and that was a gift she didn't want to take from him. But he would be more irritated with cold food later than being woken. She laid her hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.

Poland sat up instantly, pushing her hand away with his arm, looking up at her, relaxing as he saw her face.

"Oh, Ela, just you…" Poland smiled, "Czego chcesz? (What do you want?)"

"I brought you food," Hungary stepped back, grinning, so he could see the tray of steaming dishes.

Poland's eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. He brought his hands to his mouth, looking up at her with a half concealed squeal of excitement, "ELA YOU MADE ME PIEROGI!?"

"Not just Pierogi…" Hungary grinned, picking up a plate of steaming dessert.

"You made me Sernik!?" Poland nearly leaped out of bed to hug Hungary, "How did you do this, Ela? How!?"

"Well, Russia was nowhere near the kitchen and I thought you could use some cheering up. Did it work?" Hungary laughed, hugging Poland back.

"Yes, it worked! Dziękuję Dziękuję Dziękuję! (Thank you)"

Hungary smiled, "You're welcome. Now, eat before it gets cold! I'll be nearby if you need me. Are you feeling any better?"

Poland nodded, grinning. He walked to the nightstand and leaned over the plate, taking a deep inhale of the smell of the food. Instantly he hunched over, bringing his arm around his face, coughing until he fell to his knees.

Hungary knelt next to him, putting her arm around him, rubbing his back. "Are you sure you're getting better?" she asked as the coughing slowed.

He leaned against her shoulder, exhausted. He nodded slowly, trying to catch his breath, "Yes…" he didn't move, letting his head rest on her shoulder, letting her rub his arm gently. "I'm getting better. I promise…"

"Good," Hungary smiled, helping him back into bed, "Now, I brought the food on a tray so you don't have to get out of bed…" She picked up the platter and laid it across his legs, smiling at him kindly, "When you're finished just call me ok?" She pushed his hair behind his ear motheringly and smiled.

Poland nodded, "Ok." He looked down at the food. It smelled delicious. He glanced up, watching Hungary step towards the door. He stopped her, "Ela?"

Hungary turned to look back at him, "Yes?"

"Dziękuję. Really."

Hungary smiled, "Just, try to eat it, ok? You need to keep getting stronger."

Poland nodded, "Ela?" He stopped her again.

"Yes?" she turned around with a sigh and a smile.

"Will you check on Liet for me? I'm… I'm worried about him…"

Hungary nodded, "Ok. I can do that."

Poland smiled, "Ok. I'll eat now. I promise." He picked up the fork and looked down at the steaming pierogi, pastry stuffed with meat and cabbage and vegetables, with a good amount of sour cream piled on top. He grinned, starting to eat like he hadn't had food in months.

…

 ***A/N: Trigger Warning: The following scene involves Hungary finding Toris after a suicide attept. He is unsucessful, and I have been causious in my descriptions, as this is a potentially triggering topic for me as well. Reader discression is advised. I avoid triggering words, but there are some mild descriptions of blood. Nothing too graphic. I have tried to be careful.***

Hungary stopped in front of Lithuania's door. She took a deep breath, biting her lip. She hadn't seen him all day, and usually, he was around cleaning something, cooking something… but she hadn't seen him. She tried to tell herself she'd just missed him at every turn. It was a big house. She could have easily missed him. Everything was fine. She was sure everything was fine. She reached up and knocked on the door.

"Toris?" She said softly.

No answer.

"Toris?" She called a little louder, giving a firmer knock, "Toris are you in there?

Nothing.

She bit her lip and turned to the door knob. She tried to turn it. It was locked.

"Toris are you ok?" She called louder, banging on the door.

No answer.

"Toris!?" She slammed her shoulder against the door. It didn't move. She knelt, looking at the doorknob. It was an old-fashioned style lock, and wouldn't be difficult to pick. She glanced around the hallway. No one was watching. She pulled two pins out of her hair and bent them to shape, slipping them into the lock. She heard the last pin click, snapping the lock open. She turned the knob and stood, rushing into the room. She didn't see him. His bed was perfectly made, his clothes laid out for the next day on the long chest at the foot of his bed. None of the lights were on in the room, and the curtains were drawn.

"T-Toris?" She said again, suddenly worried. He could have locked his door to keep Russia out, and she hated to think that she might have invaded his room needlessly. She looked around again, trying to see if he was hiding somewhere. It sounded silly to her to think he was. She turned towards the door, taking the hair pins from the lock, checking to make sure it still worked. She turned the lock on the inside, hoping it would close properly behind her. She stepped towards the hallway when something caught her eye.

Light.

A little sliver of light under the bathroom door. She stopped, pausing to listen. She heard nothing. Slowly she walked up to the door, laying her hands on it, pressing her ear to the wood. Was that water? Not running, but the sound of water faintly splashing against the tile. A bath? She bit her lip. She didn't want to interrupt him. She stepped away from the door, biting her lip. She glanced towards the open door to the hallway. She didn't want to interrupt Toris, but there was a twist of worry in the pit of her stomach that would go away. She looked back at the bathroom door and reached up, closing her eyes for a moment before knocking.

"Toris?"

She heard a faint splash.

"Toris are you all right?" She called again.

Another small splash, but no reply.

"Toris if you're all right, answer me!"

Nothing.

"If you don't answer me, I'm coming in!"

Again she heard a very faint splash, but no reply.

Hungary closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and closed her fingers around the door handle. It wasn't locked. She kept her eyes closed as she stepped inside. She turned to the bathtub and opened her eyes.

She screamed, bringing her hands to her mouth suddenly, rushing to the side of the tub, throwing herself on her knees. The water was already dark red. She grabbed Lithuania's closest wrist, lifting her apron to it, pressing down hard, desperate to stop the bleeding. She reached for his other arm, relieved to see it wasn't injured. She reached up to touch his face.

"Toris?" She whispered, turning his face towards her. His half closed eyes and faint breath reassuring her that he was still alive. She pressed harder onto the gash in his wrist, lifting more of the white cotton fabric onto it, watching it soak through almost instantly. She pulled off her apron, folding more fabric over his wrist, pressing down with both hands. "Please, come on please…" She whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands shook, her breath catching in her throat. She touched his face again, trying to turn him to look at her.

"Toris? Toris can you hear me?" She begged.

He didn't respond.

She looked up to heaven for a moment, then back at Toris's face, "Please, please, come on… please hang on, please…" She bit her lip harder, trying to calm herself down. Trying to focus. She looked around the room, closing her eyes and shaking her head as she saw the missing knife from the kitchen dropped beside the edge of the tub. His blood was still wet on the blade. She looked around the room again, trying to think of a way to get him out of the tub. She needed to get him to the bed. She couldn't leave him. She couldn't take her hands off his wrist. She turned towards the door, keeping her hands firmly on her apron, pressing down as hard as she could.

"HELP!" She screamed, "SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!" She didn't know or care who would come. She needed help. He needed help. She couldn't lift him on her own, not out of the water…

It seemed like hours before she heard footsteps coming towards the door. Her heart dropped. _No…_ She didn't have time to think of an explanation before Russia stepped through the bathroom door.

The giant country gasped, rushing to the side of the tub, kneeling beside Hungary.

She stared at him. His face was horrified, worried, and almost pained. She couldn't see one shred of anger in his eyes.

"Russia I don't… I don't know what to do…" She trembled.

He looked at her, sighing deeply. He pointed towards his arm as she pressed onto it, "Is that…?"

She nodded.

"Here, you keep your hands on that, I'll pick him up, da?" Russia asked, his voice low and worried.

She nodded again, biting her lip, looking back at Lithuania.

Russia pulled off his coat, throwing it carelessly onto the ground and pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, taking off his gloves and tossing them beside his coat. He stood, leaning over the tub, reaching under Lithuania's legs and back, lifting him slowly, "Hungary, get his head!" He said urgently.

Hungary reached forward, putting her hand behind Lithuania's neck, keeping her other on the would, supporting his head. She looked up at Russia and nodded.

Russia pulled him the rest of the way out of the water, turning to get him through the door while Hungary still gripped his wrist. Gently he carried the smaller country to the bed, motioning for Hungary to move the covers.

Hungary lifted Lithuania's head, resting it against Russia's shoulder, turning to flip the covers over the bed. She bit her lip, helping carefully as Russia laid Lithuania onto the bed, pulling the covers over him to his waist.

Hungary looked up at Russia, "You hold his wrist, I'll go get towels and medical supplies. If… if that's all right?"

Russia nodded, not looking at her. He pressed his hand over her's on Lithuania's arm, letting her slide her hand out from under his, "I've got this, go. Hurry." he nodded.

Hungary glanced down at Lithuania for a moment. He was covered in blood, his hair soaked. His eyes were closed and he hadn't moved since she'd called for Russia. She could just see his chest rise and fall with very faint breath. She ran out the door and down the hall to get to the medicine closet. She grabbed everything she could think of. She needed Estonia. She didn't have time to look for him. She flew down the hall again, carrying the medical supplies and a few towels. Poland's door flung open as she passed it. She stopped, turning to look back at him.

"Ela? Ela what's going on?" Poland's voice was serious, though weak.

"Never mind, Felek, please…"

"Liet?" Poland looked into her face

Hungary looked back into the deep green eyes staring at her. She couldn't lie. She nodded.

"I'm helping." Poland walked forward, completely ignoring her half-hearted pleas for him to stay in his room.

"Feliks…" She shook her head, angry. She turned, running after him, following him into Lithuania's room. She watched in shock as Poland barely seemed shocked. He grabbed a towel from her arm and ran up to the bed, immediately starting to wipe the blood of his friend's chest and hair.

"Toris, it's me," he said, gently pushing Lithuania's soaking hair out of his face, wiping away the red trail it left across his forehead, "I'm right here. Please… please…" He bit his lip. He looked up at Russia, "You know how to stitch wounds, right?"

Russia nodded, "Da," he didn't look at Poland, turning to Hungary as she set the medical supplies down on the nightstand. He grabbed a band and tied it around Lithuania's upper arm, twisting it tightly. He sighed, looking back at Lithuania's face, "Hungary, give him pain killers please, hurry."

Hungary stared at Russia, nodding, digging through one of the boxes she'd grabbed, her hands shaking so badly she could barely grip the syringe. She filled it and started towards Lithuania's arm.

Russia shook his head, pushing her hand away, "Nyet, it's tied off. Neck," he said quickly, reaching past Hungary to grab another syringe, larger, made for cleaning wounds.

Hungary slipped the needle into Lithuania's neck, looking up at Poland. The blonde country was concentrated on his friend's face, with one hand touching his forehead gently, the other holding his hand.

Poland looked up at Hungary, biting his lip. They couldn't let him die. It would take him hours longer to heal if he died. He pressed two fingers into Lithuania's uninjured wrist, trying to feel for a pulse. It was weak, but there. He sighed in relief nodding to Hungary, "He's still alive."

Hungary sighed too, turning back to Russia, "What do you need?"

"Water. Now." Russia said, motioning towards the bathroom.

Hungary took the bowl from the supplies and ran into the bathroom, turning on the water to warm. She tried not to look at the tub. She didn't want to see it. She filled the bowl and turned off the water, running back to Russia, holding the bowl to him as he filled the large syringe. She forced herself not to look away as he pulled the soaking apron away from the wound. Blood instantly started to seep from the wound, but it was slower, just a few trickles instead of the gushing wound she'd seen before.

Russia cleaned the wound carefully with water first, then saline. He looked into the gash, shaking his head and swearing.

"What?" Hungary whispered.

"Get me a table and a light. Please, hurry," He looked up at her.

She barely recognized him. His expression was worried, almost hurt. His eyes were upset, but not angry, though his voice was still rough and urgent. She ran to the corner of the room, grabbing a small table and bringing it to Russia. She threw one of the clean towels over the wood and watched as Russia gently laid Lithuania's arm across it. She looked at the dark-haired country's face again. He wasn't conscious. She was worried.

Russia looked at the wound again, shaking his head.

"What's wrong…?" She asked again.

"I need Estonia…" Russia almost growled, sighing deeply.

"I can go and get him for you-"

"He's in the basement with GDR."

"W-What…?"

"I sent him down… maybe an hour ago. Please, hurry. Go get them both. And pray Estonia is still able to be helpful…"

Hungary looked up at Poland, who shivered and turned back to Lithuania. She ran through the door and down the stairs, around the corner, and down the hallways that never seemed to end. She turned past the kitchen and ran down the basement stairs. She stopped, listening. She winced, running up to the black door and throwing it open.

"Gil, stop…" She froze, staring at him. He held Russia's pipe, raised to strike against Estonia, who was bound to the wall, his back covered in bruises. She sighed, almost relieved to see that it was bloodless.

GDR looked at her, dropping the pipe immediately, "Liz?"

"Gil, Russia needs you to stop… we need Estonia." She looked down at the blonde man, who lifted his head. His face wasn't damaged.

"What does Russia need?" Estonia asked carefully as Gil immediately started unlocking the cuffs around his wrists.

"He needs you to help with Lithuania."

Estonia closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He didn't need to ask. He stood, wincing, grabbing his shirt from the corner of the room and throwing it on, buttoning it carefully. He ran out the door and started up the stairs.

Hungary didn't move, still staring at Gil. "What… what are you…?" She stared at him.

"I had orders," GDR shook his head, trying to walk past her.

She grabbed his jacket, stopping him. She shoved him against the wall and slapped him as hard as she could, satisfied to see the shape of her hand appearing in red on his white cheek, "What is wrong with you!? Orders?" she swore, glaring at him, "Don't you tell me you would do this just because you had 'orders'… don't tell me that…."

Gil didn't look at her, keeping his face turned away where her slap had thrown it. He set his jaw, closing his eyes.

"You better have a d*** good reason for this, Gilbert! Why? Why would you listen to Russia? Why would you-"

"Because if I don't prove to Russia that he has my loyalty, I don't get to go to Berlin. And I don't go, I can't stop RAF from trotting my brother and I can't… I…" he looked down, "I can't let that happen. And I will WHATEVER I have to to make sure it doesn't!" he shoved her arms off of him, staring down at her, "Any more questions for me, Hēderuvāri?" he snapped.

"Just. One," she stared up at him, her voice hot with anger, "Are you loyal to Russia? Really? Truly loyal to him?"

"What do you think?" Gil snapped, motioning towards Russia's pipe on the ground. He pushed her back and walked through the door.

Hungary glanced down at the pipe laying on the stone. Away from Russia's hand, it looked so simple. It didn't look threatening. Just a pipe. Just a metal tube… she looked back towards the door, watching as Gil disappeared around the corner up the stairs. She shook her head with a sigh and ran back up to Lithuania's room. Estonia was already inside. He and Russia were both working to fix Lithuania's wrist. She sighed deeply, meeting Poland's eyes. They were still worried, but more hopeful than they'd been before. She bit her lip and glanced towards the bathroom door. She took a deep breath, determined to make herself do something. She walked into the room and stared at the tub. She leaned down, picking up the knife, setting it on the counter near the sink, and turned to the tub again. She closed her eyes, shaking. Images of the past invading her mind. She shook her head. She didn't want to think about it. She knelt, reaching in and pulling the plug, turning on the fresh, clear water. She watched the last of the blood spiral down the drain with a sigh of relief. She picked up a clean washcloth and wet it, starting to wipe away the stains from the tile walls and sides of the tub.

Hungary looked back towards the door with a sigh of relief when she heard Estonia and Russia's voices sounding relieved and happy. She stood, standing in the doorway to watch. Estonia and Russia had finished repairing the inside of the wound and had started stitching it closed. She saw Poland cross himself and press his hands over Lithuania's. There were tears streaming down his cheeks. She brushed her own eyes, sighing in relief. It was over. For at least a little while it was over. Russia wasn't angry, Lithuania was safe, Poland was getting better… She stood straight suddenly, gasping. _I have to tell Bela…_

* * *

A/N: There's a lot happening at once here. Prussia trying to prove himself, Poland is doing SO much better. Estonia's pretty chill about everything. (as usual). Russia's snapping from incredibly cruel to very normal and even kind... Lithuania's... not doing too well... and Hungary is trying to keep everything from completely falling apart. And getting mad at Gil. Because Gil deserves it. Especially here. yup. More of his reaction to all of this to come. I promise. An intense chapter, I know... but an important one. Things are falling apart in the USSR more and more... everything is slipping, and honestly, the countries can't really survive like this for very much longer... the plot continues to thicken as things reach their boiling point... We're still a little ways from the wall's collapse, but it gets closer with every chapter!

Fun fact: This is the longest chapter so far. I actually crossed 4,000 words with this one (excluding these author's notes too!)

Thank you to all my loyal reviewers! You really keep me going! I'm sorry the update schedule has slowed. I'm still recovering from illness... though slowly but surely I'm getting better! Thanks for all the get-well wishes! I think it's working! XD (I'm feeling a bit better but this stupid cough won't. go. away...) anyways, again, thank you! Reviews are so appreciated! Polish treats for all of you! Special thanks to for the Polish translations! Dziękuję!


	67. Chapter 67: Unexpected

Chapter 67

Gil stepped into his boss's office. He wore his uniform, crisp and pressed to near-perfection. He didn't want his boss to think he wasn't capable of handling himself. He felt powerful in the uniform. Powerful and in control. He never felt in control anymore. He liked it. Power felt safe. He was in charge again. At least, he tried to tell himself that. He turned to look at his boss's face an winced internally. The man looked smug.

"Well, GDR, here you are again," His boss sighed.

Gil shrugged, "Looks like I am. So? No decision yet? Good. What do I have to do to take exchanging my brother as a hostage off the table?"

"What are you willing to do?"

"Anything," GDR nodded.

"Good…" his boss smiled.

Gil felt a chill go down his spine. He tried not to show it.

"Are you also willing," his boss continued, "To kill innocent women off the street to cover up your crimes?"

Gil froze, "I-I'm sorry sir, I don't under-"

"Oh yes, you do. Don't play stupid with me, Beilschmidt," his boss snarled, "I know you didn't kill Gisela."

Gil said nothing, setting his jaw, staring at the wall behind his boss. He shivered a little, trying to hide it as his boss stood and walked closer to him, "You forgot one little detail, GDR."

Gil said nothing.

"Gisela has a tattoo. It's a shame you never saw it… she really is very good-"

Gil grabbed the man's shirt, roughly, "Don't you dare talk about her like that!" he snapped, his voice cold.

"Oh, so you do like her? Or is it just guilt for executing her sister?"

Gil slammed the man against the wall, swearing at him, his voice hot with rage. "Don't you DARE bring up Adelaide!"

"Looks like I'll have to tell Russia about what you've done. Not only did you let a woman over the wall, that woman was Gisela Muller, and then you killed an innocent woman to cover it up. You shot her face to pieces so I wouldn't know the difference, dressed her in Gisela's clothes…"

"Shut up!" Gil held the man's collar, trying to stop shaking. He wasn't sure if it was fear or anger. He didn't really care.

"Russia would want to know all of that, don't you think?"

Gil pressed his arm against his boss's throat, "Do you know how much I want to kill you? Do you know how easy it'd be…?"

"That wouldn't go well for you…" his boss choked.

"Oh really? And why is that?" Gil loosened his grip a little, letting the man speak.

"Because only I know where your drugs are. Russia put me in charge of making sure you get them. And you need them, don't you?"

Gil pulled his arm away, releasing his boss, stopping back from the man, anger still flashing in his eyes.

His boss laughed, "It's that bad? You would give up so quickly?"

Gil looked away. He hated this. All of it. He couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk his boss taking away the drugs. He needed them too badly for that. He didn't know if he could even survive without them.

"For now, you're to stay in your hotel room," GDR's boss straightened his suit jacket, "I don't want you getting into any more trouble!"

"Sir, my brother…"

"I'll handle it! Go back to the hotel. Schulz is waiting for you there."

 _WHAT!? Why…_ Gil sighed, turning towards the door.

…

Germany let Italy help him as he walked through the door of the conference room. He tried to stand on his own, trying to hold himself like the soldier he was, but he could barely put one foot in front of the other. He nodded his thanks to Italy as the redhead helped him into a chair, his bodyguards taking their place on either side of him immediately.

"I want to know how it's going…" Germany nodded, "It's been three days. Please… please tell me we have answers-" His voice broke as he leaned into his elbow, coughing until it sounded like his lungs would break. He looked back up at his bosses and leaders, his eyes tired and bloodshot. His eyes met his boss's. He wasn't thrilled to see the worry on the humans' face.

"We're still working on a solution, Ludwig…"

Germany tried to slam his fist on the table, but he was too weak to give the action the impact he wanted it to have, "That's not good enough! Why hasn't RAF replied to my offer?" He tried to choke back another cough, clearing his throat, trying to keep the scratch in his throat down. He turned to Italy suddenly as the redhead set a glass over water in front of him. He nodded gratefully towards Italy, who returned a smile. He looked back at his boss, "Why haven't they replied…?"

"We're not entirely sure. They aren't communicating with us much. As far as we've-"

Germany cried out in pain suddenly, gripping his head. He went weak, falling off the chair onto the ground.

"Germany!" Italy screamed, kneeling beside his friend, lifting his head, biting his lip as he saw a red mark on Germany's forehead where he'd hit the table as he fell. Italy looked up at the leaders as they gathered around to see if Ludwig was ok. "Something's happened… find out what happened…" Italy looked up at him, his brown eyes terrified, "Please, please find out what happened…"

The phone rang suddenly. Germany's boss nearly ran to it, holding it to his ear, listening silently. He hung up the phone, returning to the group still gathered around Germany, who was just starting to stir.

Germany opened his eyes slowly, looking up at his boss. "What…"

"Captain Schumann's been shot."

Germany closed his eyes again, "Tell RAF my offer still stands… please… please, I can end this…"

Germany's boss set his jaw. He didn't want to. But he wasn't sure they had a better choice.

"Help me up…" Germany nodded to his bodyguards. Carefully, he let them help him into the chair. He leaned back in it, exhausted. He looked back at his leaders, "Well… if you're not going to trade me… we need a plan. I can't let those people stay hostages any longer. We have to get them out. If they want to play with fire, then we return it."

"Do you have any ideas?" Germany's boss nodded to him. He had a few of his own.

Germany nodded, "Feuerzauber." (Fire Magic)

...

The air was cold. Lithuania slid his hands up his arms, rubbing them gently. It was always cold, but it felt worse. He looked down the hall towards Russia's office. The giant country was upset. It was always colder when he was upset. Lithuania looked at his watch, shivering. He'd been asked to meet with Russia in only a few minutes. It worried him. He had been asked, not ordered. Russia had barely looked at him. He pulled his sleeve over his wrist, making sure the bandage was covered. He closed his eyes with a deep sigh and walked down the hall towards the door. He didn't have to knock. Russia opened the door as soon as he stepped up to it. He shivered again.

"Please, come inside…" Russia motioned into the room towards the chair opposite his own at the desk.

Lithuania walked forward slowly, his fingers almost instinctively checking the edges of his sleeves. The bandage was still covered. He sat in the chair slowly and didn't look up at Russia, trying to hide his shaking hands in his lap. He was so cold. He shivered again as Russia walked around the desk towards him. He didn't look up, cringing and leaning away from Russia as the man stood next to the chair. He braced himself to feel Russia's hand across his face, praying it wouldn't draw blood. He didn't move as he heard Russia kneel beside the chair. He turned, looking into the violet eyes that weren't angry. They looked pained and desperately sorry. He hadn't seen Ivan look sorry in years, so many years. He looked down to see Russia extending both of his hands towards his wrists. He pulled away, shaking his head. He didn't want Russia to touch him.

"Litva… please…" Russia held out his hands still, his voice kind.

Lithuania looked into Ivan's face, then back to his hands. He sighed and gently laid his healing wrist into Russia's palm.

Russia turned Lithuania's hand over gently, pulling up his sleeve to just over the bandage, revealing the healing wound was just starting to dirty the bandage.

"Have you changed this yet today?" Russia's voice was low and worried.

Lithuania shook his head. His eyes followed Russia as the giant stood, walking back around to his desk. He sighed deeply as Russia knelt and pulled a roll of white gauze from one of the drawers. Lithuania pulled his sleeve back over the bandage as Russia set the gauze on the desk, dragging his chair behind him, setting it in front of Lithuania.

"Please," Russia said gently, "Let me help you," he extended his hands again.

Lithuania studied Russia's face. He didn't speak, not trusting his voice to be steady enough to hide the terror that gripped his chest.

Russia said nothing, only reached towards Lithuania slowly, nodding to his wrist.

Lithuania closed his eyes and laid his wrist in Russia's hand. He watched as Russia gently started to unwrap the bandage. He shivered. Russia's hands were cold, and their touch had scarred him too many times for him to find it comforting. He looked away, bringing his free arm around his own waist, trying to find some warmth, trying to reassure himself that he wasn't being threatened.

"Am I hurting you?" Russia looked up suddenly, noticing Lithuania shiver.

Lithuania shook his head, looking down and away from Russia's face. He didn't want his comfort, he wanted to be left alone. "You don't have to do this for me. I can change a bandage myself…" he looked back at Russia, starting to pull his wrist away. His eyes drifted to Russia's scarf as the giant's strong hands reached up to it.

Slowly, his eyes full of pain, Russia pulled down the scarf, revealing the scars it covered. The white marks were left unbandaged, and the collar of the grey sweater he wore left them visible without the soft warm tan of the scarf to hide them.

Lithuania sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again. He looked into Russia's face.

"How many times have you bandaged these for me?"

Lithuania didn't answer. Russia had never asked him or forced him to treat those scars, to bandage them when he'd scratched at them until they bled. He'd volunteered to help. He sighed again. Russia hadn't always had them. He remembered when he didn't have to hide behind the scarf. He'd been a child, and Lithuania had been a powerful country who'd watched the little violet eyed boy play in the snow. Then the boy grew up and grew powerful. He took away Lithuania's name, his land, his language, his freedom… everything. He looked back at the scars across Russia's neck. He'd seen them appear one by one on the cold skin as the years went by. And he'd cleaned them, bandaged them… he looked down at his own wrist as Russia finished unwrapping the bandage. Old scars were visible around the new wound. Russia wasn't the only one who'd been slowly adding more marks to his skin. He looked up at Russia again as the man inspected the stitches. The wound was healing, but slowly.

"It's my turn to help you, Toris," Russia ran his finger across the stitches, pulling his hand away as Lithuania winced, "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

Lithuania said nothing, turning away. He didn't have an answer. He didn't want to answer. He just wanted to leave. He wanted to lock himself in his room and just be alone.

Russia looked at the wound, turning it, almost studying it.

Lithuania turned to look at Russia again, staring, shocked, to see what he thought were tears in Russia's eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Toris…" Russia whispered.

"W-what?" Lithuania didn't move.

"I only wanted to make you stronger. I wanted to teach you how to be strong. I got angry. I'm sorry… I only wanted to teach you, I never wanted you to…" Russia looked down, pausing for a moment, trying to keep from crying. He knew what it was like to be pushed too far. "I'm sorry… I'm so so sorry this never should have happened…"

Lithuania said nothing, his breath catching in his throat.

 _"_ _I'm so, so sorry…" Russia whispered, reaching forward, looking at the wounds he'd lashed into Lithuania's back, breaking the perfect unmarked skin for the first time._

 _Lithuania winced as Russia touched his back. He looked away, shaking. He was apologizing? How could he apologize after what he'd just done? Toris looked over his shoulder at the violet eyes staring back at him, tears falling from them down the young country's cheeks. General Winter stood behind him, a smile of approval on his face. The Tsar stood next to him, his face expressionless, looking at his country. Russia's face was horrified, shocked at what he'd done. Lithuania looked away. How long was it going to be this way? He tried to tell himself that once Russia's boss was gone… once the new Tsar took over, everything would be fine._

 _He was wrong._

Lithuania closed his eyes, looking back at Russia, seeing tears in the violet eyes again, spilling over his cheeks. He looked so hurt, so broken. He hadn't seen that look on Russia's face for years, so many years.

Russia looked up at him, still holding his wrist. He nodded, "I'm sorry. Yesterday when Hungary called for me… I didn't…" Russia paused, "Never do that again. I won't allow it, do you understand?" He tried to make his voice sound stern.

Lithuania looked away, shaking. The voice sounded closer to the Russia he'd grown used to. He wasn't sure if he was disturbed or relieved to hear the cold start to seep back into the giant's voice. He nodded, "Da."

"Khorosho…" Russia's voice trembled. He took the gauze and started to wrap it around Lithuania's wrist. He tore it, tucking the end into one of the folds, standing, looking down at Lithuania, "Now… you don't have to work today. Rest. But you are no longer allowed to be alone. You will stay in Estonia's room until you aren't in danger anymore. Is that clear?"

Lithuania looked up at Russia, angry. He wanted to be alone. He just wanted to be left alone. He sighed finally, nodding, "Da…"

"Khorosho. Now… go rest and… please, Litva. Don't do that again… please…"

Lithuania didn't look up at Russia's face again. He stood, nodding once to Russia, keeping his face down, and walked out of the room without another word.

* * *

A/N: A mix of a lot of things here. Starting off with finding out what's been going on for West, what Gil's trying to do about it... then Lithuania. Some healing for him, at least a little bit, and an interesting reaction from Russia. I really enjoyed writing that scene. They've known each other for a long time. They've helped each other, cried with each other, healed each other... their relationship with each other is complex. Very complex. That's what makes it interesting. And Lithuania still hasn't revealed why he's Russia's favorite. He did say Russia has told him. He knows... and we will find out eventually. But yeah... cried writing the scene with them.

Sorry, it's been so long! I've relapsed with the sick a little. So. Much. Coughing. And I've just been exhausted... really wanting to get better soon. All the honey and elderberry syrup and cough meds... and tea... *happy smile* always tea...

As always, reviews are appreciated! I love reading them! I really really do! WOW, 400 reviews came SUPER quickly! I'm thinking of doing another thing for review 500... so keep the reviews coming! XD As for treats... hm... how about grilled pineapple with spicy caramel sauce? That sounds like a good treat to me. And mango smoothies. :)


	68. Chapter 68: Brotherhood

Chapter 68

Lithuania looked at Estonia's door. He didn't want to see him. He didn't want to see anyone. He looked down the hall towards his own door. He couldn't disobey. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. He couldn't take any more anger from Russia. His back didn't sting. The throbbing in his wrist was the only pain he felt, and he didn't want to change that. He sighed, shaking his head. He ran back to his room. He unlocked the door, leaving it open as he stepped inside. He walked past the bathroom door. He stopped in front of it but didn't go inside. He felt sick. He shook his head again, taking his pillow and a blanket from his bed. If he had to stay in Estonia's room, he at least wanted his own pillow. He turned back to the door and stopped. Belarus stood in the doorway. He'd barely seen her the whole day, not since he'd opened his eyes to see her face as he regained consciousness after… everything… He wanted to smile at her, but he couldn't.

Belarus threw her arms around his neck, reaching to kiss him.

He turned his face away.

"Torshka?" Belarus whispered gently, touching his cheek, trying to turn his face to hers.

"Da?" Lithuania asked gently, still not looking at her. Hoping speaking Russian would let her know he wasn't interested.

"Torshka, what's wrong?" She tried to pry the answer from him, letting go, looking up at him, scared.

"I'm fine," he shook his head.

She reached up again, touching his cheek with all the love she could express without a word.

He closed his eyes, melting into her hand, a deep ache settling into his chest. He pulled her hand away, "Bela…"

She didn't answer, looking up into his face, her eyes filling with tears, "Torshka, what's wrong…"

He wanted her to stay away. He couldn't protect her…. not from Russia, not from himself. "Please…" He didn't know what he was going to say.

"Torshka…?"

He didn't have to answer, Russia's voice bellowing through the halls, calling for both of his sisters. Belarus jumped, turning towards the door. She gave Toris one more look of concern, but then ran out of the room towards her brother's office.

Lithuania sighed, clutching his pillow up under his arm. The look on her face as she sat next to the bed, holding his wrist, looking into his eyes… it killed him. He couldn't do that to her again. But he couldn't stop loving her, and he wasn't going to try. He carried the pillow and blanket down the hall and knocked on Estonia's door.

…

Gil closed the door of the hotel room behind the little blonde haired boy who'd carried his luggage in. He turned to Schulz with a heavy, annoyed sigh.

"So," He said stiffly, "Looks like I'm stuck with you again."

"Yes, sir."

Gil sighed, sitting down on the bed, putting his head in his hands. He wasn't sure how we was going to get out of the mess he found himself in. His boss knew too much… He held all the cards, and Gil had no more to play. He looked up at Schulz, noticing the young man was intently staring at him.

"What?"

"How old are you?"

Gil felt a chill go down his spine. How much did he know? He kept his eyes on Heinrich's face, "I'm… 24…"

Heinrich's expression changed even more, more serious, more confused, "You said you were 25."

Gil mentally swore, trying to figure out how to get himself out of this, "My birthday was just a month or so ago, I'm still not used to saying I'm 25," he shrugged, "That's all." He stood, trying to be casual. He opened his suitcase, starting to unpack, laying things into the drawers. He'd brought enough for a few weeks in Berlin. He wasn't there for a specific amount of time. He tried to think about what he was going to be working on, what he was going to do, how he was going to bribe his boss to keep his mouth shut…

"What about this?" Schulz interrupted his throughs.

Gil turned. Schulz held out a photograph. A black and white photograph. Gil took it, trying to hide the fear rising to his chest. He took the paper, looking at the image. He was dressed in his full SS uniform, standing next to his brother and several generals. The flags behind them betrayed the age of the photo, as did the bands around their arms. He flipped it over carefully, looking at the numbers scrawled on the back. _1943_

"Where… where did you get this?" he asked, mentally kicking himself for the amount of emotion his voice revealed.

"I did some digging…"

Gil closed his eyes with a deep sigh, Heinrich's voice was shaking.

"And? What did you find?"

"This. And a few other things… how old are you?"

Gil set his jaw, looking into Heinrich's face, "It's not me. It must be my father, he fought in the war-"

"Stop lying… sir. Please."

Gil said nothing, looking back down at the photograph. He thought they'd destroyed it. It wasn't supposed to exist…

"Sir?" Heinrich's voice broke into his throughs again, "Sir, I think I'm going to sound crazy but…"

Gil looked back up at him with a short frustrated sigh, "Well?"

"When I was in training… I heard about 'people' who didn't age… they've fought in all the wars, from all the countries in the world… they don't age, they can't be killed…" Heinrich rubbed his forehead, trying to process what he was saying, "Sir, there are things about you I really can't explain…"

"Do you want to know?" Gil kept his face on Heinrich's still, setting his jaw as the young man turned to him again.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I said: 'Do you want to know'?"

Schulz swallowed hard.

Gil sighed, watching the uncomfortable deliberation crossing Heinrich's face. He sighed again as the young man nodded.

"Ja. Ja, I want to know. Who are you? What are you? How old are you?"

Gil shrugged, sitting back on the bed, "I'm somewhere around a thousand. 800, 900… something like that. I could do all the math, but I'm too tired right now. I don't keep track that closely since it doesn't really matter to me much. I keep time by my kings and bosses really… and of course my Teutonic Knight days… that was fun! As far as _what_ I am, I'm a nation. I know that probably doesn't mean much to you, but basically, I'm the physical representation of my country. First The Teutonic Knights, then Prussia, now The German Democratic Republic. I actually can die, but I'll come back in a few hours, which kind of sucks sometimes, not that dying doesn't suck just by itself. I heal about 100x faster than the average human, on a good day when my country is doing well, which means these days I'm lucky if it's 50x as fast… I'm not the only personified country, there are quite a few of us actually, well… one for every country. It's usually all well and good until one or more of us go a bit nuts resulting in wars and fun stuff like that. And contrary to what most of the others will tell you, I'm by far the most awesome country, and you're very lucky to know me. Now," Gil stood, pulling out his gun and bringing it to Schulz's forehead, resting the barrel between his eyes, "Since you know all that, I have to kill you."

"Wait!" Schulz held up his hands, looking up into Gil's face, his blue eyes full of confusion and terror.

"What? I can't risk you telling anyone," Gil shrugged.

"I can promise that I won't," Schulz steadied his voice, keeping himself calm.

Gil was impressed. He wasn't sure he believed Schulz could keep the secret, but he was impressed, "I can't be sure of that… but I'd rather not kill you…" he studied Heinrich's face. He wanted to scare him. He needed to be sure he wouldn't tell anyone. For his own safety more than anything. Most humans who learned about the countries ended up dead. Gil wasn't exactly sure why, but he liked Heinrich. He hasn't wanted him to find out.

"Well…" Gil said, keeping the gun on Heinrich's forehead, "You don't need your tongue to guard me…"

Heinrich's eyes grew wider, and Gil noticed his raised hand shaking, "I… I… you wouldn't… sir?"

"Swear you won't tell anyone? Ever? Not even my boss. You can't tell him you know. You can't tell anyone you know, is that clear?"

Heinrich nodded, "I swear it."

"Ok," Gil pulled the gun away, re-holstering it at his hip, "Now, I'm guessing you still have a few questions for me?"

Heinrich nodded.

Gil walked to the small fridge in the hotel room and pulled out a bottle of beer. He set it on the nightstand, took off his jacket, laying it carefully on the bed, and laid next to it, kicking his feet up on the bed without taking off his boots. He looked up at Heinrich, "All right. You have questions, and I have awesome answers."

…

Germany looked up from resting his head in his hands, his elbows on the table. He pressed against his eyes, rubbing down his face and leaving his hands at his mouth, finally resting his chin on his left fist as he lowered his right hand to his pen. He stared down at the map of an airport in front of him. It was the airport where they expected the plane to land. He needed to be there. He needed to be there and he needed to help. They were building a team. He was waiting for the list to arrive of the best, most skilled men in his military. The men who would be perfect for the job of rescuing the hostages. He wasn't exactly sure he liked the full plan, but it was what they had. They were going to tell the kidnappers that they would exchange the RAF members they wanted, then rescue the hostages while their guard was down. It was risky, but he would take what he could get. If that didn't work, he would offer himself. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he didn't want anyone to die. He couldn't be responsible for any more needless death, especially when some of those deaths would be children. He jumped suddenly as he heard Italy walk into his office. He recognized the sound of the leather of Italy's shoes. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, turning to look at the redhead.

"Ja, Ita?"

Italy held out a mug of steaming coffee towards Germany, "I thought this might help," he smiled.

Germany took the cup gratefully, taking a deep drink of the black liquid. It burned his tongue a little. He didn't care. Caffeine was more important. He leaned forward suddenly, barely managing to set the coffee down as a deep hacking cough rattled through his lungs. He leaned his head in his hand again, resting it on the desk.

"What time is it?" Germany asked, his voice weak, exhausted and rough from coughing.

"Almost three in the morning…" Italy bit his lip. He was worried.

"What are you doing here?" Germany looked at him. He hadn't left the office all day. Italy should have been at home. Instead he was still dressed in his suit, though he'd ditched the jacket, and was making him coffee? Germany shook his head, "You should go home, Feli… There can't be anything for you to do here."

Italy shrugged, "I've been helping where I can. There's so much planning going on! You must be so tired… are you really tired, Germany?"

Germany nodded, "Ja… very… but there's too much left to do."

"If you sleep, your brain will work better," Italy smiled, trying to be helpful. He put his hand on his friend's shoulder, "Do you want me to bring you a pillow from the couch?"

Germany nodded again, gratefully, "Ja. I'll sleep here for a little while… I need to keep working. You should go home, sleep, rest."

"Not until we save everyone," Italy shook his head, "I'll sleep on the couch here. I want to help. I promise I want to help!"

There was a knock on the door suddenly as one of the aides poked her head in the door.

"They found you a team."

…

Lithuania reached up to knock on Estonia's door, hoping the blonde country wasn't there. He sighed, looking up into the bright blue eyes as Estonia opened the door. He walked inside, barely glancing at Estonia, and dropped his pillow and blanket onto the floor.

"You can sleep on the bed you know."

Lithuania shrugged, "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Estonia shook his head, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, "I've known you long enough to know when you're not fine. You're always the cheerful one. You're always the one to look on the bright side, to say we'll get out of this someday… what happened?"

Lithuania sighed deeply, closing his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak finally, but closed it again, sighing once more, shaking his head, "I don't know. I don't what's wrong with me… I just… I can't… I can't do it anymore… I can't…"

Estonia sighed, "I know… me neither, but here we are. This whole place would fall apart without you, you know that, right?"

Lithuania turned to look into Estonia's face, "No. I don't think so. Russia holds this place together, and he does it with an iron fist… or an iron pipe… and I just…" Lithuania shook his head, "I'm tired… I'm so so tired…" He brought his hands to his face, sighing deeply. He looked towards the bathroom door, "I'm going to go clean up."

Estonia stopped him, "Lith…"

Lithuania sighed, looking at his friend again, "I'll leave the door open. I just want some water on my face. That's all, I promise."

Estonia nodded, letting go of the brunette's shoulder. He watched him walk into the bathroom, leaving the door open as he promised, and turn on the water. He splashed cold water onto his face, leaning against the sink.

Lithuania took off his jacket, laying it on one of the chairs as he reentered the main part of the room. He left his shirt on, but rolled up his sleeves, unbuttoning the cuffs.

"Who bandaged that?" Estonia motioned to the gauze.

"Russia," Lithuania smiled slightly. It was badly done, but the effort Russia had taken to try was encouraging. He didn't see sanity in the violet eyes very often. He wished he did.

"Let me help you with that…" Estonia shook his head, walking up to Lithuania and picking his arm gently, inspecting the bandage, "He tucked the end into itself…?" He looked at Lithuania, not sure if he was confused or amused.

"I've been adjusting it all day," Lithuania shrugged, "I just never had time to re-do it."

"I'll fix it…" Estonia led him to one of the chairs, motioning for him to sit, laying his arm on the table.

Lithuania watched as the taller man opened a drawer, pulling out the entire wooden piece, bringing it to the table. It was full of medical supplies. He watched as Estonia unwrapped the bandages.

"I should cut these stitches…" Estonia said, looking up at Lithuania, who nodded his agreement. Estonia took out a small scissors and carefully, trying not to disturb the healing skin, snipped the stitches, pulling them gently from the wound. He looked back up to Lithuania's face, but the man had looked away. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

Lithuania nodded, "I just don't like looking at it…" he confessed.

Estonia sighed, but he was relieved to hear those words from Lithuania's mouth. If he hated it, maybe he wouldn't do it again. "While I have my supplies out…" Estonia said as he skillfully wrapped Lithuania's wrist, after cleaning the wound, "Are there any other-"

"No," Lithuania shook his head, still not looking at Estonia.

"Are you sure?"

Lithuania sighed, nodding, turning to look at his friend, "Yes, I'm sure. No new wounds…"

"How the ones from last week?"

"Almost fully healed, just a few more days…"

"Do you mind if I take a look at them?" Estonia asked carefully. Lithuania was touchy about one thing, and one thing only, his back.

Lithuania sighed, nodding, "All right. Fine. If you think you can make it heal faster. It doesn't really hurt right now…" he shrugged.

"Still. I don't want it to scare more than it has to."

Lithuania nodded again, reaching for the buttons on his shirt as Estonia released his hand. He pulled it off his shoulders, laying it on the table beside him. He looked at Estonia and sighed, standing. He turned around, sitting backwards on the chair, resting his arms against the back of the chair, and letting his head rest on his arms. He winced a little as he felt Estonia wipe a cloth over the marks. It stung, but faded quickly. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore it. He heard a light step at the door. He turned suddenly, pulling away from Estonia to see Latvia standing in the open doorway, the bright blue eyes fixed on his back. He opened his mouth to speak, but Latvia cut off the words that didn't have time to escape.

"L-L-Liet… I just… I just wanted to make sure you were okay… because of… yesterday…" Latvia walked up to him, completely ignoring his back.

Lithuania nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on Latvia's. He couldn't be ok with it. He couldn't just ignore it. He watched as the boy's eyes drifted from his shoulders back up at his face, "Latvia…"

"It's ok, Toris… I-I-I-I… It d-doesn't b-b-b-bother me…"

Lithuania bit his lip, Latvia's stutter betraying how upset he really was. He put his hand on the little country's shoulder, "Latvia?"

The boy covered his face instantly, sobs shaking his whole body.

Lithuania turned, wrapping him into a hug as Latvia kept his hands over his eyes, "Latvia it's ok…" his voice broke.

"W-Why is Russia so scary…?" Latvia sobbed, bringing his hands from his face to carefully wrapping them around Lithuania's shoulders, trying to stay out of the way as Estonia gently applied a thick, clear paste to the almost-healed wounds. He looked down at Lithuania's back, more tears pouring down his cheeks. "I hate him… I hate him so much…"

Lithuania shook his head but didn't say anything. He didn't trust his voice. He didn't hate Russia. He couldn't. He tried sometimes, but he never could. "I've got you…" He whispered carefully, rubbing Latvia's back gently as the boy cried, "I won't let him hurt you…" he wanted to promise it. He couldn't promise it. He couldn't always protect Latvia. He tried, with everything he had he tried, but he couldn't always protect him.

"That's the problem…" Estonia broke in, "You don't let anyone help you. You don't let anyone make sure he doesn't hurt you…"

"I can take it."

"No. No you can't," Estonia shook his head, sighing, "After what happened yesterday, don't tell me you can take it. Don't you dare."

Lithuania turned to look at Estonia, pulling away from Latvia's hug. He wasn't used to hearing anger in the country's voice, "Estonia… please, don't-"

"No. I'm going to say it. Stop it. Stop protecting us. We take care of each other. Not just you taking care of us. So stop it. Please. Do you think…" Estonia looked down for a moment. He hated crying. He wasn't going to cry, "Do you think I like stitching you back together when he's done with you? Do you think I'm happy you took it for me when… when you… when you cry because I can't help but hurt you while I'm trying to fix what he's done… I hate it. I hate it! I'm the only one in this house who knows enough medicine to help you. I know your back better than I'm sure you do. I could tell you exactly what he used and when for ever. single. scar. You aren't protecting me… Do you think you're the only one who can't do this anymore…? You're not the only one who suffers here… Please… PLEASE, Toris… let us protect you sometimes? Let me help you. I can't… I can't let you do this to yourself anymore. The three of us are practically brothers and… and I'm not going to let you do this. You can't do this anymore, and I won't let you…"

"M-me neither!" Latvia said, putting his hand on Lithuania's shoulder.

Lithuania broke. Deep, heaving sobs shook his broken body. Relief, pain, gratitude… he couldn't have named all the emotion that flooded his chest, the deep ache relaxing with every tear. He didn't fight as Estonia, who hated being touched, pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him, letting his head rest on his shoulder. He felt Latvia's head on his arm, as the boy's arms wrapped around his waist. Both men, closer to his brothers even than friends, held him and he sobbed. He sobbed until he had no more tears. His head ached, and his eyes burned, but the pain in his chest felt lighter. He left his head on Estonia's shoulder, keeping his eyes closed, completely exhausted.

Lithuania woke as the light started to stream through the windows, gently peeking through the dark curtains. He looked up. He was lying on the bed, between Latvia and Estonia, Latvia's hands resting on his scars. He smiled gently. In place of the ache in his chest, he'd felt so strongly for months, years… was something he hadn't felt in a long time: Hope.

* * *

A/N: Back from a mini-vacation (which was SO fun guys! So. fun!) and I'm feeling quite a bit better, which is a nice change! I've been having some medical stuff going on besides the cold... no details, but it's getting figured out, and for that, I am very glad! YAY! Anyway... again, lots of things happening here. This chapter is mostly about Lithuania, but I wanted to get some Germany and Gil in there, as technically they're the main characters. Lithuania's story just had something pretty major happen... so I need to close that arc... and so there you guys go. (yes, I cried again... did I ever cry...) And this is actually the first scene in the whole story with JUST the three Baltics together. And Estonia! For those of you who really like seeing him. and more Latvia! Because Latvia is adorable, and I miss him!

Gil could be in trouble... Heinrich knows WAY more than he should...

And Germany might just be able to save those hostages... *dramatic music*

As always, I love reading your reviews! They definately encourage me! I hope to get back to a more frequent writing schedule soon. I really do want to update daily. I really, really do. For now, every two days is what it seems to be... but I want to get back to every day! Anyway, please review! I do love it so! And Lemonaide, and pizza, and grilled cheese, and all things lovely and yummy for all of you! :D (and Latvia hugs. For all of you!)


	69. Chapter 69: Hang On

Chapter 69

Gil rolled over in the hard hotel bed. He couldn't sleep. Slowly, carefully quiet, he sat up, trying to get a good look at Heinrich in the other bed. He was sleeping. Gil sighed. He was worried about him. He was young. Far too young. Gil pressed his hand into his forehead, trying to think. Trying to process an answer as to why he would be assigned to something so dangerous as handling a nation. He sighed again, laying back down, glancing at Heinrich again. He didn't have answers, and he wanted them. He sighed, frustrated, throwing the covers off his legs. He stood, walking up to the long mirror on the door of the bathroom. He looked at his face. He didn't like it. He looked tired, and he was still too skinny. He looked at his bare chest, smiling sadly as he looked across hundreds of years of memories etched in scars. Wars and battles where he'd fought beside his men. He touched the long deep scar down his chest. One scar he hated. One of two. The bullet scars from helping Gisela were almost completely faded. They wouldn't leave permanent marks, at least not on his body. His eyes drifted from his chest to his right arm. The inside of his elbow was scared, badly, and the track marks left along his arm were bruised and angry, the marks from his first dose from his boss were especially dark. The man had been rough, but Gil hadn't argued. He needed the drugs too much to risk fighting.

Gil took a long, slow, deep breath. The air was different in his city. He felt stronger, and the memories of who he was were clearer, more vibrant. He tried to push them away. He'd promised Russia he wouldn't come back as Prussia. He would stay GDR. He had to. He had to survive. He set his jaw, determined to be GDR until he could break down the wall he hated with everything in him.

A chill settled into his stomach. Once the wall fell, would they give him back his name? What would he become? East Germany wouldn't exist. GDR wouldn't exist. He… wouldn't exist? He looked away from the mirror, trying to process the thought. He was almost sure America and the others would never agree to give him back his name, his real name. He'd almost fully resigned himself to that. He closed his eyes, smiling sadly. Maybe, just maybe, he could fade away as his brothers and sisters had before, making Ludwig stronger. He opened his eyes again. He didn't want to leave. Ludwig was still young, he still needed help, protection. He couldn't leave. He didn't want to disappear. He shook his head, looking back up at the mirror. He felt uncomfortable suddenly like someone was watching him. He turned to look back at Heinrich's bed. The feeling hadn't been wrong. Heinrich was sitting up, looking at him. Gil could see the young man was still tired, but his eyes were bright with alert concentration. Gil saw them drift over all the scars he carried.

"Curious about how many of these were fatal?" He smirked, trying to erase the tension, praying he hadn't seen the scar on his back.

"S-sir…?" Heinrich's voice was rough and shaking.

Gil sighed, looking at him still, "Well? Ask."

Heinrich sat up further, looking at Gil, "Sir? Are you all right, sir?"

Gil sighed again, "Well, that's an interesting question," he shook his head, looking back at his scars in the mirror, "But, I'll say yes. I'm fine."

"The scars, sir?"

So he had noticed. "They're from a long time ago," Gil nodded, "Most of them anyway. A few of them are from the war."

"Which war?" Heinrich asked simply, but something in his tone made Gil turn to look at him.

"World War Two… now I'm asking if you're all right?"

Heinrich nodded, "I'm fine… I just… lost my father during that war. That's when I knew I was going to be a soldier…"

Gil nodded, "Good reason. I just hope you don't get yourself killed…"

"What do you mean by that, sir?" Heinrich asked, standing this time, taking a step towards Gil.

"I mean that whoever assigned you to me obviously doesn't care if you live, or if you die. You're expendable. Hell, they probably even want you dead…"

"W… what did you say, sir?" Heinrich stared at him, shocked.

"I said they probably want you dead. My track records for keeping humans alive near me isn't great. You might make it a week if you're lucky."

"I don't think so, sir," Heinrich shook his head, "I'm a better shot than you seem to think!" he said indignantly.

Gil smirked, the indigence in Heinrich's voice was almost amusing, "I'm sure you're a fine shot. It has nothing to do with that. I get people hurt and killed. One of the few things I'm good at. That and killing people. I'm a soldier. I kill people. A lot of people. I've killed thousands of men with my own hands, Schulz. Thousands. Over several hundred years… but still…" he looked into Heinrich's face, "Am I scaring you?"

"Nein," Heinrich shook his head, "I'm not scared… it's just hard to wrap my head around how old you are, how many things you must have seen… the battles you must have fought…"

Prussia nodded, "Yeah. A lot of battles," he sighed, "Anyway, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," he turned back to his bed, crawling under the covers, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder, turning away from Heinrich. He didn't close his eyes. He couldn't sleep. He heard Heinrich get back under his own covers. He didn't want him asking questions. The more he knew, the more danger he would be in.

Gil grabbed the gun from under his pillow, standing up instantly as he heard banging on the door. He looked to his left, seeing Heinrich had done the same. He was impressed. He hadn't expected him to be that fast. He nodded to him, "I'll go," he walked towards the door. "Who is it?" he almost snapped.

"You're needed, sir."

Gil glanced at the clock, "It's nearly 3 in the morning… who am I needed by? And why?"

"Your boss has a new mission for you, GDR."

Gil sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, "Give me five minutes." He sighed, grabbing his uniform and throwing it on. He didn't have time to adjust it perfectly. He glanced at Heinrich, who had changed into his own uniform. He nodded to him again, motioning for him to follow him. He opened the hallway door. He struggled, fighting the arm that wrapped around his shoulders, trying to force him to his knees. He kicked and elbowed desperately as giant arms held him down. He looked back, trying to see where Heinrich was, trying to reach for his gun. A hand caught his wrist, and he felt a needle press into his neck.

…

Gil opened his eyes slowly, his vision still blurry. He groaned, closing his eyes again, trying to adjust to the light. He struggled, realizing he was bound to a chair. He shook his head, he'd had more than enough.

"HEY!" he called towards the door, waiting as his voice echoed in the silence. He didn't like the trembling he could hear in his voice. He shivered, more terrified than he would admit to himself. He winced, hearing footsteps outside the door. It took all the willpower he had to convince his mind that it wasn't Russia. He wasn't there. He wasn't going to open the door and walk in. He wasn't there. He forced himself to keep his eyes on the door, angry with his body for shaking. He couldn't stop it. He tried to force his breathing to slow down, tried to push away the sick ache of dread in his stomach. He shivered again. He bit his lip, worried about how much time had passed. His body was starting to beg for the drugs. He didn't want them, but he needed them. He was too easy to control. He hated it. He jumped as he heard the latch on the door click. He forced himself to look at the door as it opened, trying desperately to hide the shaking. He sat up straighter, looking at the small leather package in the hands of a man he'd never seen before.

"What are you doing?" he tried to make his voice sound authoritative, "I'm your country, how dare you tie me here. Let me go. That's an order!"

The man said nothing, walking around behind him.

Gil shivered, mentally kicking himself for it as he heard the man open the leather package.

"I'm here to give you this. That's all, sir."

Gil struggled, trying to turn to look at the man. "What is that?"

The man was silent.

Gil winced as he felt the needle slip into his neck. He relaxed, his heartbeat slowing to normal again, his breathing relaxing. He jumped again as he felt more of the drugs slip into his blood. He glanced back at the man, "That's too much… I…"

"I had orders. I followed them."

Gil shivered again, grinning with a slight laugh, closing his eyes. When he opened them again the man was gone, and his boss stood in front of him. He smiled again, "So…you wanted me high, huh?" he shook his head, "What would Russia say?" he smirked, laughing slightly. It felt good to be high. Russia had never given him enough.

His boss shrugged, "I don't really care what Russia says, I don't want trouble from you."

Gil nodded, "Well… I'm not going to be trouble now," he laughed, shaking his head, "Not like this," he ignored the prick of worry in the back of his mind. Why did his boss want him this high? What was he afraid of? Why was he tied up? Did Russia know what was going on? What even was going on? He didn't have answers, his mind too calmed by the drugs to care. He looked back up at his boss as the man walked closer to him.

"You said you wanted to help your brother…"

Gil nodded, watching as the man went to sit in a chair he pulled from a corner. He sat across from him, leaning forward, folding his hands.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

"What…?" Gil asked, confused, upset, "Why not I… I told you I'll do anything…"

"Oh, yes I know you would. Now, I'm going to get Russia to come get you."

"No!" Gil struggled, "What have I done? You asked me to keep out of trouble, I just want to help my brother, tell me what I can do! Please!" he tried to force himself to think clearly, the drugs getting in the way.

"I would, except I want your brother to get attacked by RAF. I want them to destroy West Germany. Don't you understand? If we can convince everyone that your brother is still a Nazi, then they'll listen to us. The whole world will. They'll see that Russia is right and that your brother and America are wrong. That's how this works. So don't cause trouble."

Gil shook his head, "I want… please… Don't make me go back…"

"Prove to me you won't cause any trouble, and I might think about letting you stay."

"How? How do I prove it… please…"

"I'll think about it. For now, you can stay here and think. Oh, and Heinrich is fine. He doesn't know where you are. We've briefing him on you. By the time that's finished he'll know everything. We weren't planning on telling him-"

Gil started laughing again, "He figured it out himself! He's smarter than you all seem to think he is!" Gil shook his head, grinning. He watched as his boss stood, moving the chair back into the corner.

"I'll be back in an hour or so. Then I'll have a job for you. Proof."

GDR nodded, still grinning, "Sure," he didn't care. He didn't care what he had to do. He didn't want to go back to Russia, and he needed to help his brother. He needed to prove himself. He shivered. Even the drugs couldn't erase the memories of the last time he'd proved himself. He shook his head, trying to erase the image of Lithuania's broken body in his mind, trying to stop feeling the ring of the pipe in his hands as it crashed against Estonia's back. He closed his eyes, the drugs doing their job, bringing the few happy memories he had left into clear focus. He shivered again. He just wanted to feel normal, just to feel ok…

"Hey, Preußen. ('Preussen' - Prussia)"

Gil turned his head to his right as fast as he could. His mouth fell open and he gasped in surprise, then grinned, "Liesel!" He shook his head suddenly, "Please… I'm dreaming…. I can't be that high… I… you're not here…"

"I'm here."

He shook his head again, looking away, "There's no way…" he bit the tears back, "I'm just high…"

"Preußen…?"

He didn't turn to look at her, closing his eyes. The sound of her voice was painful. He couldn't take it. But he hadn't seen her face in so long… so long… He turned to her again. He didn't care if he was dreaming. He missed her. He missed all of them… "Bavaria?" he whispered, looking up at her, her beautiful dark red hair shining in the low light. He shivered as she touched his face. He could feel it. "You… Are you really here? How… how I don't…"

"I got permission," she smiled, shrugging.

He didn't care what that meant, "What are you doing here…?"

"You need it. I'm worried about you. You always were an idiot."

"Oh, Danke," he rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Bitte," she shrugged, smirking.

"Of all people that could get sent to help me…"

"Oh, come on. I'm your favorite sibling," She crossed her arms over her chest.

Prussia rolled his eyes, "Keep telling yourself that. I know you hate my guts."

"And you return the favor!" She put her hands on her hips, looking down at him disapprovingly.

"Why are you here again?"

"To help you!"

"And how exactly are you doing that?"

"I don't know, we didn't get that far before it was decided that I was needed down here right away."

"Why haven't you shown up sooner?" Prussia rolled his eyes, "There have been a few times when I could have really used your help you know…"

"I didn't get permission… but… you're tied to a chair in your own city, and you're high."

Prussia laughed, nodding, "Oh, I'm definitely high, that's for sure."

Bavaria bit her lip, looking at him, "I'm worried about you, kid."

"Kid? Who are you calling 'kid'?"

"You!" Bavaria rolled her eyes, "Because you're acting like one!"

"Can't help it, did I not just explain to you that I'm high?" He shook his head again, still chuckling, still grinning.

"I'm supposed to remind you to keep fighting…"

Gil laughed again, louder this time, truly amused, "Oh, is that all? Have you seen what happens when I fight?" he looked up at her, his voice shaking again, "Have you been watching this whole time…? Do you know what he's done…. to me, to my friends… what do you mean keep fighting…?"

"Preußen…" she knelt beside him, turning his face towards hers gently, wiping the tears from his cheeks, "You have to keep fighting. I know.. I know it's hard, but… please… Please keep fighting, don't let Russia win."

"Let him win? Liesel... he already won… he won the war… he owns me… please… Don't ask him to fight him… I can't fight him anymore…" he leaned his head on her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him gently. He shivered again, the drugs still trying to keep his mind off anything painful. They weren't strong enough.

Bavaria held her brother gently, petting his hair, trying to comfort him. She turned to the cuffs binding him to the chair and unlocked them, letting them fall to the ground.

Prussia knelt instantly, throwing his arms around his sister, again resting his head on her shoulder, letting himself be held. He hadn't let anyone touch him in a long time. He'd grown to hate it. He winced as he felt her hand press against the scar on his back, the horrible mark he wanted nothing more than to scrape off.

"Did I hurt you?" She pulled her hand away, suddenly.

Prussia shook his head, "Nein…" he whispered. The drugs were just strong enough to not let him cry. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to. He closed his eyes, letting her hand rest on the scar again, "Luddy is going to be so disappointed with me… isn't he?"

"Nein!" Bavaria pulled back from the hug, lifting his face gently so he looked at her, "He won't! He'll understand. He's a good kid. He won't be angry with you…"

"He should be after what I've done…" Prussia looked away.

"Stop it. Stop talking like that. What happened to the 'awesome Prussia' you always used to talk about?"

"He met Russia. And Russia beat it out of him."

"I don't believe that."

"I don't have any. fight. left…" Gil shook his head, "I don't…" he closed his eyes, resting his head on her shoulder again. He didn't care how many times they'd fought in the past. He missed her, but he couldn't cry.

"Gilbert… please… please don't give up. Please."

Gil looked up, closing his eyes again, looking down at his own arms. She was gone.

…

Germany looked at his watch as he set his tray of food on the table. He looked at Italy, Fredrick, and Hans. He didn't want the bodyguards there. He tried to eat quickly, he didn't want to lose any time, despite knowing that he couldn't make the plane ready any faster. They were working as fast as they could. They were going to get those people off that plane. They'd made a deal to release the imprisoned RAF leaders, and they had a meeting place. Operation Fire Magic was in full force, and he planned on being on that team himself. He glanced up at Hans and Fredrick. They would never let him go on that mission. He hadn't exactly explained that he intended to be in the field with the men, not just waiting on the sidelines. He wasn't going to let them go alone, especially not when he couldn't die, and they could. He wouldn't risk their lives if he wasn't going to help. Italy's face caught the corner of his eye. The redhead looked curious and a little worried. Germany knew he could tell he was stressed. He looked at his best friend's face, trying to smile, trying to make it seem like nothing was wrong. He caught something in Italy's face. An idea? He followed Italy's eyes as the redhead looked down at his hand. He saw the man close a packet of sauce in his hand. What was he doing? He looked up at Italy again, confused. The redhead only grinned.

 _Italy, what are you doing…?_ Germany kept his eyes on his friend, jumping up suddenly as Italy brought the hand with the sauce packet to his chest, splattering the bright red paste everywhere with a cry of pain.

Hans and Frederick stood instantly, turning to Italy, who fell back in his chair.

Germany stood stunned for a moment before running towards the plane. He shook his head with a slight smile. He hadn't expected Italy to help him ditch his bodyguards, but he would take it. He glanced back over his shoulder as he turned the corner. Hans and Frederick were still looking at Italy, who was making a great deal of noise and being somewhat overdramatic. Germany ran outside and up to the stairs of the plane. He slowed his pace to a walk and stepped towards the men standing at the end of the stairs.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt. I need to be on that plane."

He didn't need to say more. The guards let him up. Immediately, he ran into the cockpit, turning to the captain, "There's been an attack in the base, we need to leave now," he nodded, "That's an order."

The captain nodded back to him, "Yes sir."

Germany walked back into the main cabin and took a seat, glancing around the room at the soldiers who were going along. Good men, many of whom he'd chosen himself for the mission. If they anyone could save the people on that plane, they could.

* * *

A/N: Terribly sorry for how long it's been since my last update! Here you guys go! A little bit of a slower chapter, but rest assured lots of things will be coming soon. I wanted to have more of Gil in this chapter since he hasn't honestly been doing a whole lot lately... and I do like what I have. Since it's canon that 'dead' countries are able to come and visit the live ones with 'permission', I thought it would be nice to Prussia to get some encouragement from one of his siblings. XD He needed it. Seriously, he's given up so much... :( And Italy is helpful, and Germany is trying to go rescue some people! That idea isn't exactly practical... but it was funny and I wanted some humor in here, so Italy pretending to get 'shot' with a ketchup packet it is. Because Germany needed to ditch those guards! (his boss is going to be so mad... thankfully Germany's boss is nice!) Prussia does get a little bit of his spirt back when he's in Berlin. It's his city after all. It makes him feel stronger. And without Russia there he's much more himself. Hopefully he can keep it that way... not if his boss gets his way, but if Prussia can hang on...

As always, reveiws are deeply appreciated. I want to get back to my regular schedule (possibly another chapter coming tonight guys!) and you guys leaving reviews is definately encouragement for that. Thank you so much for taking the time to write them! Treats for all of you! Lemonaide, cookies, and all things yummy! :D


	70. Chapter 70: Springtime

Chapter 70

Gil opened his eyes, groaning, bringing his left arm over his face. He turned, looking down at his right arm. An IV was deep in his skin, taped down and attached to a tube.

"W…what…?" he said, groggy. He blinked hard, trying to focus, trying to figure out where he was. He pressed his fingers against his closed eyes, shaking his head. He felt sick. He turned to the tube in his arm again, following it to a small packet of clear liquid hug on the back of the headboard. He shook his head. The setup was rough, but it was working, though, his mouth felt dry. A metallic taste lingered in the back of his throat.

 _Saline?_ he wondered. It had to be. Only one thing tasted that bad. He sat up, looking around. He was in his room back at the hotel. He saw Heinrich sitting in a chair by the window. The man turned to him as he groaned again, "Why did you open the window…?"

"You're awake!" Heinrich stood, running up to Gil, putting a hand on the man's shoulder, "They said it could be days…"

"Was it?" Gil asked, still groggy.

Heinrich shook his head, "Nein, only a few hours…"

Gil nodded, "That's good at least. So…" he looked back up at the young man, "They told you everything about me?"

Heinrich sighed, nodded, "I'm sorry, sir… about Prussia…"

"Yeah… that wasn't the best day of my life…" Gil tried to brush it off. He closed his eyes, remembering Germany sitting beside him. His brother's face had looked worn, tired, exhausted and under-fed from the war. He had looked down at his own hands. They were boney and rough. The war had taken its toll on both of them.

Gil looked down at his hands. They were even worse now, and he'd lost more muscle in his arms. He looked back up at Heinrich. He didn't want to think about what being GDR had done to him. He looked away again. The way the man looked at him was different.

"What did they tell you… about me?"

"A lot…"

Gil sighed deeply, "So… are you afraid of me yet?"

Heinrich didn't move, looking away from Gil.

Gil closed his eyes, "I'm sorry… whatever they told you…" he shook his head, looking up at Heinrich "It was probably true. I told you myself… I've killed a lot of people, I've done a lot of terrible things. But… you don't have to be afraid of me… please don't be afraid of me.."

Heinrich looked up at him, "Everything in the war… that was you? Everything that happened…?"

Gil closed his eyes, "Ja. My fault. All of it… everything. Blame me… blame for your father, blame me for the millions of people we killed… but please, PLEASE don't think I don't regret it…" He looked up into Heinrich's face, keeping his eyes steadily on him, trying to force his hands not to shake.

Heinrich looked into Gil's face. He'd never seen that much pain in a man's eyes before. How could he trust someone who was hundreds of years old? How could he believe he regretted it after everything he'd done? He sighed, "Ok. Well, we have a mission."

Gil nodding, sitting up slowly, looking back at the tube in his arm. He shivered, his stomach churning. He leaned forward, pressing his head into his hands, "Ugh…" he looked up at Heinrich again, "Do you know what they gave me? I've never felt that good in my life, but… ugh…" he shook his head.

Heinrich looked away, setting his jaw, his hands clenching into fists.

"Heinrich? What's wrong?"

"I don't like it, sir… but I do know what they gave you…" Heinrich shook his head.

"What…?" he almost wasn't sure he wanted to know… his body was begging him for more of it, the urge stronger than it had ever been before.

Heinrich looked down. He didn't want to see Gil's face. "Heroin, sir."

"W-what?" Gil looked up at him, standing, wincing as the IV in his arm stung. He didn't take his eyes of Heinrich, "Why? Why would he want to…"

"He wants you to need it." Heinrich felt sick. He didn't like this, any of it, but it wasn't his job to question GDR's boss.

Gil sat back on the bed. He shivered again. They'd given him a heavy dose, but not nearly enough. He shook his head. That's why he'd gotten high. That's why it had felt so much better than anything the painkillers had ever done. He hated it. What had he done to himself? He regretted ever starting. He stood again, turning to the IV in his skin and pulling it out, pressing down on his arm as it bled instantly.

"What does my boss want us to do?" He asked simply, walking towards his suitcase to find a bandage for the wound.

"With the celebration coming up, there's been some talk of a rebellion going on," Heinrich straightened, looking at Gil, all business. He could talk about the mission easily enough. It didn't make him feel sick.

Gil nodded, grabbing his shirt from the hanger and tugging it on, starting at the buttons, "So, we're supposed to make sure that doesn't happen?"

Heinrich nodded back, "Yes, sir."

Gil picked up his gun and a package of ammunition. He started to load the clip, his fingers shaking. They could barely push the bullets down against the spring. He tried to hide it. He had to be able to load his gun. He couldn't lose that. He couldn't risk it. His boss was giving him a chance to prove himself, and he intended to follow through.

"What else did they tell you? Where are these rebels? What do they want us to do with them? Are we killing them all, or bringing them in?"

"Bring them in, sir."

Gil nodded, "All right. And where are they?"

"We're supposed to meet with your boss to discuss the details as soon as you're awake, sir."

Gil nodded again, "All right, let's go." He didn't bother to put on his jacket. He wouldn't need it. He slipped his gun into the holster at his hip and turned to the door.

…

Germany looked at the men around him, good men. He was more nervous than he'd admit. It had been a while since he'd had to fight himself. He had rarely held a gun since the war. He had to do this. He couldn't let those people die. He turned to look at the leader of the group, who stood in the front of the dimly lit room, gun in hand.

"All right, boys. We don't have a lot of time, and we don't have a lot to go on. Once we're in, a lot of different things could happen. I want us prepared for the worst-case scenario. Our number one priority is getting those hostages out alive. Their lives before ours, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" The group responded.

Germany looked at the leader, the only man who knew who he was. He nodded to him reassuringly. He was impressed.

"All right. Let's go," The leader nodded.

…

Gil looked down the dark hallway for a moment, then back at Heinrich, "You ready for this, kid?" he whispered, holding his gun as tightly as he could, hoping it would hide his shaking hands.

Heinrich nodded, "Yes, sir."

Gil looked back down the hall. Their job was to kill people, the people planning the 'demonstration for freedom' at the celebration that weekend. Gil didn't like it, but he wasn't going to fight it. He couldn't afford to defy a direct order, and he didn't want to risk what they might do to Heinrich if he did. His boss had made sure to threaten the young man in case Gil got any ideas. Gil sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his heartbeat. Why was he this nervous? He was a soldier, he couldn't be stressed… but this was different. It wasn't work for a soldier. He didn't kill people in dark hallways. He looked back at Heinrich and nodded for the young man to follow him.

…

Germany ran with his men as they weaved through the back hallways of the airport. They couldn't risk being seen. He gripped his gun. It felt good in his hands. He stopped as the leader held up his hand.

The man gave a questioning thumbs-up to the group.

Everyone nodded.

The leader nodded back, turning towards the door leading outside. Everything was planned, everything was ready. They would hide in the plane's blind spots, attaching ladders to the back, opening the emergency doors and getting the people out while local soldiers created a distraction, drawing the hijackers away from their hostages. This had to work. He couldn't

…

Gil leaned his back against the hallway walls, his breath catching in his throat, his hands shaking. He could hear men talking through the wall. All he had to do was turn, open the door, and walk in, gun raised, and shoot. It would be easy. He just needed to gun them down. No questions, just a room full of corpses. That's what his boss wanted. That's what he had to do. He looked down at his hands, still gripping the gun with white knuckles. His hands shook. He raised the gun towards the opposite wall. He couldn't keep it steady. He shook his head. He felt sick. He glanced at Heinrich, the man's face was worried. He didn't dare speak, even in a whisper. His stomach churned. He shivered.

 _Nein. Not now, please…_ he shook his head, his heart beating faster. It wasn't nerves. He didn't get nervous about fighting people, killing people… He was in no danger. He felt Heinrich's hand on his shoulder. Why did he feel so sick? He turned to look at the young man again, shaking his head.

Heinrich risked a whisper, his voice so quiet it was almost breath, "Gil… Are you all right?"

Gil shook his head, leaning forward, gripping his stomach, letting go of the gun with his right hand. He couldn't be here. Why did his boss want him here? He'd needed more before they left, he'd told him that. He'd practically begged him, after nearly screaming at him for giving him Heroin. But he wanted it, needed it. He looked up towards the door again, the back of his throat burning. He felt sweat on the back of his neck. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this…

"Gil, can you shoot?" Heinrich turned the white-haired country's face towards him, forcing him to look at him.

Gil didn't answer, trying to hold his gun. He could do this, he had to do this…

"Can you shoot?" Heinrich whispered, his voice urgent, angry.

Gil set his jaw, angry at himself, "No."

Heinrich shook his head, standing and turning to the door. They had orders. He had to follow them.

"Schulz, don't you dare-" Gil reached for him. Too late.

Heinrich threw open the door and started shooting.

Gil scrambled to his feet, catching himself on the wall, his vision blurring. He swallowed hard, forcing down the burning pain in his throat again. He raised his gun, praying he could hold it steady. He turned through the door just as he saw Heinrich go down. He fired at the shooters, watching them fall to the ground. He ran to them both and finished them off, wincing as their bullets hit him. He looked down, bringing his hand to his chest as blood soaked through his fingers. He took a gasping breath, falling to his knees. He looked back towards the door. Heinrich was on the ground, blood on his chest.

"No…" he whispered, dragging himself towards the young man, still holding his gun. He had gripped it so tightly his fingers refused to let it go. He lifted Heinrich's head with his right hand, leaning against his left, keeping his gun pointed away from both of them.

"Heinrich? Come on…" he brushed the young man's hair out of his face. He saw blood in his mouth. No. He wasn't going to lose him. He looked down at the injuries. Three bullets, all of them in Heinrich's chest, and blood, a lot of blood. He laid his hand against the wound that he knew must have hit the man's lungs. He pressed down, trying to stop the bleeding. He needed help. They both needed help.

"Heinrich, come on. Stay with me here…" he closed his eyes, setting his jaw as he pushed against the wound again, drawing a very weak choke of pain from Heinrich, "Come on, open your eyes for me?" he looked down at the man's face, "Look at me, stay with me here!"

Gil looked up, and back towards the door. Their backup would have heard the gunfire. They had to almost be there. They had to be coming to help them. He looked back down at Heinrich. The young man's eyes were heavy, refusing to stay open.

"Stay with me. Look at me…" Gil brought his left arm under Heinrich's head, the gun still gripped in his frozen fingers as he pointed towards the wall beside them. He pressed against the wound with his right hand, ignoring his own injuries. His head was swimming. He still felt sick. He shook his head. He had to hang on. "Come on, don't close your eyes," he tried to reassure Heinrich, "I'm right here. They'll come get us soon…" he tasted copper. He turned his head, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Blood. He ignored it. He didn't have time to think about it. He turned back to Heinrich. The young man's eyes were closed. Gil pressed hard on his chest again, begging him to hang on. No response. He looked at his chest. Heinrich wasn't moving.

"No. No no no no no…" Gil shook his head, moving his arm, trying to wake Heinrich, "Come on, kid… come on. Come on, please… please…." he looked towards the door, his eyes almost refusing to focus. He set his jaw, angry. If his boss wanted to prove to him who was in charge it was working. He felt sick. He blinked back tears. Why was he doing this? Why? He turned back to Heinrich, still pressing against the bullet holes in the young man's chest. He felt weak, looking down at his own wounds. He'd lost too much blood. He tried to keep the pressure on Heinrich's chest. He blinked hard, suddenly realizing he was lying on his back. He didn't move, closing his eyes, letting the world go black.

…

Germany watched out the tiny window of the door as he saw the local soldiers light a fire in front of the jet. He saw the silhouetted shapes of men in the front windows of the plane. That was their chance. They ran through the door, placing the ladders and climbing them and pulling open the emergency doors.

"We're here to rescue you, GET DOWN!" He screamed, watching all the passengers immediately hit the floor.

Everything moved in slow motion as Germany fired at the hijackers alongside his men. He saw two of them go down immediately. He winced hard as bullets hit three of the passengers, wounding them, but not killing them. He glanced behind him as one of his men went down, gripping his leg. He winced, turning back to the hijackers as the shooting stopped, the cabin of the plane echoing with the ringing of gunfire fading into silence. He looked down at the hijackers. All of them, dead or wounded badly. He immediately turned to the passengers.

"Is everyone all right?" he asked, lowering his gun. Four passengers were injured, though none of the injuries were dangerous. He sighed in relief, turning towards the exits, pulling the escape chutes. He watched as people slid down to safety, the world still moving slow.

 _1, 2, 3…27, 28… 59, 60… 72, 73, 74… 83, 84, 85, 86…_ Every single passenger on the plane counted for. Every single one of them safe. Every single one of them was going home. He lifted his radio, closing his eyes in relief, "Four opponents down, hostages free, four hostages slightly wounded, one commando slightly wounded." That was all, "Frühlingszeit! Springtime!" Cheers erupted from the men around him, all of them chanting the words, the coded words that signaled victory. Springtime. Springtime. Springtime!

* * *

A/N: Two brothers go on missions on opposite sides of the wall. One to kill, one to save... and you can see how it all turned out. Gil on the drugs is getting in the way of EVERYTHING, and he is very, very aware of that. Becuase of the rather large cliffhanger on this chapter, rest assured I plan to get the next one up soon. It's already started. XD At least we get some MAJOR happiness from Germany's side. All 86 passengers alive, acounted for, and safe. The only casualties were the hijackers. The real-life historical 'fire magic' mission took place more-or-less like I described here. It was quite the turning point in West Germany ultimately defeating RAF.

Purposefully left the Gil and Heinrich scenes as a cliffhanger of course. Is Heinrich dead? Is Gil dead? Is help/backup even on its way? So many questions...

Thank you so much to those of you who are still consistantly reviewing, even though I am not-quite-so-consistantly updating! I promsie it will get better. I'm feeling better (FINALLY) from being sick/some other stuff, so hopefully more chapters soon! I really do love writing this. The break down of the wall is coming every closer and closer... :) Btw... does anyone miss Russia? He'll be back soon... ;) Anyway, cookies and hugs and lemonaide and iced green tea (my new obsession), for all of you! :D


	71. Chapter 71: Nice?

Chapter 71

The handcuffs bit into Gil's wrists. He kept his head down. He didn't look out the car window. A cold chill went down his spine. He didn't have to look up to know he was back at Russia's house. He let himself be pulled from the car and half-dragged to the door. He kept his head down until he felt Russia's hand pulling up his chin. He didn't look up at Russia.

"What's wrong, Ptitska?" Russia's voice was worried, confused.

Prussia said nothing. _I'm. Not. Your. Bird._

"Crying?" Russia took his hand from Gil's chin, brushing away the tears, "You need to be strong, Ptitska."

Gil looked up into the violet eyes that stared back at him, "Heinrich's dead. I got him killed…"

Russia pulled his hand away from Gil's face, confused, "Dead? He's not dead. Gil, I just got confirmation that he made it through surgery. No one told you?"

Gil closed his eyes, sighing in relief as he felt the pressure release in his chest. He wasn't surprised his boss hadn't told him, but he barely cared. All that mattered was there was at least no more blood on his hands. Not yet.

"There's more news than that for you. But it's cold, come inside," Russia opened the door with his back, motioning for Gil to enter the house.

Gil walked in, looking up at the grey walls and dark hallway. He felt cold, shivering as the infectious chill invaded his body. He hated it. He closed his eyes, craving the warmth of his city. The October wind bit at his back as Russia closed the door. He lowered his head again, keeping his eyes closed. He shivered again as Russia's hands, freezing even through leather gloves, snapped the metal off his wrists. He pulled his hands forward immediately, rubbing the sore, bruised skin. He forced himself to turn and look at Russia, who still stood behind him. The violet eyes were sad, even upset.

"GDR, you're shaking…" Russia put a strong hand on Gil's shoulder.

Gil winced. He hadn't noticed. He looked down at his trembling hands. They hadn't stopped shaking since his first dose of the drug he knew he was going to need, soon.

"Did my boss tell you… what…what did he tell you?" Gil tried to steady his voice. He tried to make himself sound strong, unafraid. He didn't want to be afraid of Russia anymore.

"He told me that you needed to be returned here. That you've been causing trouble? That you can no longer complete missions or train men… this is all true, da?"

"Because he gave me heroin!" Gil snapped, turning to look at Russia, his hands clenching into fists.

Russia took a step back, surprised, "He what?"

Gil looked away, crossing his arms over his chest, "He gave me heroin! And I need it now. I didn't ask him to give it to me. He just did. And I need it, Russland…" he looked back up at Russia, shaking his head. He didn't want to depend on him for anything, least of all an addiction that not even his will could conquer.

"I'll make sure you get it," Russia nodded, his expression concerned, worried. "He should not have given you this without my permission…" Russia's voice trailed off, slipping into his own language as he tried to decide on a plan of action.

Gil waited, shaking, for the gloved hand to strike his cheek. He kept his hands in fists, bracing himself to be forced to his knees.

Russia didn't move for a moment, then looked up at Gil, "Are you all right, GDR?"

Gil nodded, slowly, shocked.

"Go upstairs, GDR. I'm going to handle your boss."

Gil nodded again, walking down the long, dark hallway, to the staircase and ran up them towards his room. He hated living in Russia's house, but his room almost felt like home.

He opened the door, stepping inside to find Lithuania almost frantically changing the sheets and wiping tables.

"We didn't know you were coming until this morning. I'm sorry I've been trying to get this done and finish in time for you for when you did get back here-"

"Are you ok?" Gil asked, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder.

Lithuania jumped as Gil touched his shoulder, but he didn't wince. He looked back at Gil, nodding slowly, glancing at the bandage around his wrist quickly.

"Liet…?" Gil's voice was almost stern, more worried than angry.

Lithuania looked into the dark red eyes, sighing deeply and looking down, "I'm doing… better," Lithuania smiled sadly, nodding. It was the truth, "I really am… And Russia… he's almost been kind. He hasn't touched me since…" he nodded to the bandage on his wrist. He didn't want to say the words. He didn't want to admit them. Somehow, it kept it far away. It kept it from sinking in how real it really was, how close he'd really been to dying. He thought about it every day. He didn't want to. He looked up at Gil again, forcing a smile.

Gil smiled back, "I'm glad you're all right," Gil nodded.

Lithuania smiled sadly again, nodding in return, "Gil…."

"What?" Gil asked, almost absentmindedly.

"Please take care of yourself. Please…"

Gil nodded, "Sure," he shrugged, taking his hand away from Lithuania's back, looking at the tall dark-haired man in shock for a moment, "You… you let me touch your back. Are… are you hurt?"

Lithuania shook his head, "Like I said, nothing since it all happened. He hasn't even slapped me. It's… almost worrying? Maybe? I haven't decided yet."

"He's getting weaker…."

Lithuania nodded, "It's worse since you came back. He mostly drinks in his office, and every once and a while he'll want to talk to me. Gil… did he tell you?" he tried to change the subject.

"Tell me what?" Gil asked, curious, worried.

"Your brother-"

Gil shook his head, "I couldn't help. My boss didn't let me help him, I wanted to help him, I would have done anything for hi-"

"Gil, he's fine."

"What?"

Lithuania smiled a real smile this time, "Your brother is safe, as are all the prisoners. I hear he helped with the rescue. You should be proud of him, GDR.

Gil pressed his hands onto his face, sitting down on the bed. He wanted to let himself cry. He wouldn't let himself cry, not with Lithuania there. His brother was safe. Nothing else mattered, his brother was safe. He looked up at the dark-haired country with a long sigh, "Lithy?"

Lithuania nodded, "Hmm?" he continued, cleaning.

"Do you think West is going to be all right?"

Lithuania smiled, "Yes, yes I do think so. He's a strong kid, and he was raised by the best, so I think he'll be all right." Lithuania put a reassuring hand on Gil's shoulder.

Gil said nothing, looking down, sighing deeply. He nodded finally, "I just hope America is treating him better than Russia is treating us…"

Lithuania nodded, "Though… it's changed since you were last here, Gil. Russia… it's just different. I hear they're talking about giving him a new boss. One with new ideas to unify the SU…."

"That sounds just lovely for us, doesn't it?" Gil said sarcastically, shaking his head.

Lithuania sighed, "It does, doesn't it?" He didn't want Russia to touch him again, ever. But a new boss meant new trouble, and he would protect them all. He didn't care that they all asked him to stop. He would protect them. He existed to protect them. It was the only thing that kept him alive. "Maybe it'll be a good thing?"

"You're trying to be optimistic?" Gil shook his head, looking away.

Lithuania sighed, shrugging, "Yeah… I guess so. What else am I going to do, give up?"

Gil turned to look at him again.

Lithuania sighed, the pain in Gil's eyes was almost physically painful to look at. He had no fight left, no hope. Nothing. Lithuania looked away.

"How did you survive this for so long, Toris…?" Gil leaned forward against his knees, pressing his head into his hands.

Lithuania sighed, "I can't answer that. I just… keep trying?"

Gil nodded, "Always. I won't give up… I can't give up…" Gil shook his head, trying to keep the tears back. He didn't want to cry.

"Good. Your little brother is going to need you."

Gil smiled, "You think so?"

"He's still a kid, he'll need you," Lithuania smiled, patting Gil's shoulder gently. He finished grabbing the last of the sheets of the bed and turned towards the door. He turned, looking at Gil, who still sat with his head in his hands, before stepping towards the door again.

"Toris?" Gil stopped him.

Lithuania turned again, shaking his head a little as he saw the expression on Gil's face, "What's wrong?"

Gil was silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to tell Lithuania, "While I was in Berlin, my boss decided the painkillers weren't enough. Russia promised he's going to 'deal with' my boss, and sure hope he kills him, but that doesn't change that… he gave me heroin, Toris… and… and I thought you should know so you aren't surprised if…" he sighed, "When," he corrected himself, "When Russia uses it against me. And probably you…"

Lithuania sighed deeply again, "We're going to survive this," he said to himself as much as Gil.

Gil nodded, "I hope so… I really hope so…"

…

Germany wrapped his arms around the dogs as all three of them attacked his face with licks, their tails wagging joyfully. He smiled, scratching them behind the ears, burying his face in the soft hair, especially the Golden's.

"Good boy…" Germany smiled still, nuzzling the little dachshund, "You missed me, didn't you?"

The shepherd responded with another giant lick up Germany's face, wagging his tail even more as Germany laughed.

Germany looked back over his shoulder at his bodyguards, the smile fading. They weren't exactly pleased with him. He didn't care. He was alive and everything had worked out. Everyone was safe, and the RAF leaders were still in prison, and he hadn't been exchanged as a hostage. He felt stronger than he had in a long time. He stood, giving the dogs each another pat on the head. He turned back away from his bodyguards just in time to see Italy before the little redhead crashed into him in a hug. Germany hugged back awkwardly. He wasn't good at hugs.

"You're safe! You're safe! You didn't get hurt did you?" Italy looked up at him, worried suddenly.

Germany tried not to laugh as Italy looked him over with a very concerned look on his face. "I'm fine, Feli, I promise."

"Ok good!" Italy grinned, "I made you pasta for when you got here! Your favorite kind of pasta! With the red sauce with the olives, and…"

Germany smiled, listening as Italy continued telling him all about dinner while leading him into the kitchen, Hans and Fredrick following close behind. He didn't bother to remind Italy that the red sauce with olives was Italy's favorite, not his. It didn't matter. It felt good to be home.

The phone rang.

Germany walked to it quickly, picking it up to hear the voice of his boss on the other end. He listened, shocked, and set the phone down without a word. He turned slowly, looking at his bodyguards, "The… the RAF leaders… they… they're dead. They're dead they killed themselves… All of them. All of them that we had in prison, they're all dead… I… guess except the girl. She survived… but… the others…" he didn't know what to say, unsure if it was better or worse that they were dead. Was it over? Did that really mean it was over?

"Ludwig?"

Italy's voice broke through his thoughts. He turned to see the redhead looking up at him, the same sweet concerned expression on his face.

Germany smiled in relief, "I think it's almost over, Italy. The RAF leaders are dead. I think we might actually be ok!"

Italy grinned, "Ve!" He grinned, grabbing Germany's hand and pulling him towards the dining room table, set beautiful with a steaming bowl of pasta already at each place.

Germany smiled.

* * *

A/N: I'm alive! Hello! My goodness, it feels like a long time! It hasn't even been a week, but still! Life is busy, I'm in a show, and I've been coming home exhausted again. But after some more thought/planning, I have a few plot runways ready for takeoff! New chapter coming very soon I hope! I know I keep saying that, but really! I have plans. XD It won't be that much longer until the wall comes down, but rest assured the story won't be over there! I have a LOT planned for post-wall, so no fear of it ending there! As I've said before, I want to get it to just about modern times. :)

Thank you so much for all of you who have continued to review while I've been very slow to update! I love all of you guys so much! Seriously! I hope you enjoy this chapter. The beginning is mostly set up, but it's setting up for a lot. Then some just plain happiness on the west side! Yay! Cookies and hugs and lemonade for all of you! Or maybe some hot apple cider? Is it cold enough for that yet? I want it to be fall. I love fall. XD Anyway, thank you all again for the reviews! Keep them coming, it does really encourage me to write more!


	72. Chapter 72: Hope

Chapter 72

Gil looked away from the clear liquid dripping into his arm. His body ached, his mind dulled from everything. One made the other worth it. He brought his hands up to his eyes, shaking his head, sighing deeply, swallowing hard. His stomach churned and his skin went cold. He brought his hand from his eyes to his mouth, swallowing again, trying to focus on something other than the sick rising to his throat. He looked towards the door. He felt worse. Latvia stood in the doorway, looking right at him.

" thought Russia was g-g-giving them them them to you?"

Gil sighed, "He gives me my dose, and I take it. He didn't want to…" he stopped, trying to collect his thoughts. His mind was blurry, foggy. He smiled, laughing a little.

"W-what?" Latvia asked carefully, taking a step into the room.

Gil shrugged, "Nothing, I just can't remember what Russia said, and I don't f*****g care!"

"How how how high are you, Gil?" Latvia asked carefully, walking all the way to the table where Gil sat.

Gil shrugged again, "High enough to feel sick, so that's a good thing," he chuckled darkly, not looking up at Latvia, leaning against the table, his head in his arm, his cheek on the cold wood.

Latvia sighed, looking at Gil's arm where the needle still dripped in the drug. He took one of the tissues from the table and pressed it into Gil's arm, drawing out the syringe.

"Hey!" Gil grabbed the boy's arm, looking into his face, releasing his grip immediately, "Did I hurt you?" he asked, worried suddenly, "Please, please tell me I didn't hurt you…"

"I I I'm the one who's fine!" Latvia snapped, "I hate this, Gil! What you're doing to yourself-"

"This isn't my fault!" Gil snarled, pulling his arm away from Latvia, "I didn't do this to myself, but now I'm stuck with it, so here I am, trying to survive this, just trying to avoid withdrawal because there's nothing worse-"

"Trust me, I know!" Latvia stamped his foot, slamming his hand on the table suddenly, "Gil, stop it! Do whatever you have to do to stop, but stop it!"

"Get out."

"W-what?" Latvia took a step back, his expression changing instantly from anger to pain. Gil wanted him to leave? But Gil always said he liked seeing him… he looked down, tears filling his eyes.

 _"_ _Get out of here, Ludwig! You aren't supposed to be here!" Prussia snapped, grabbing his brothers arm and half-dragging the boy towards the door._

 _Luddy struggled, too small and weak to break away from his brother, "I'm just trying to help!" Luddy's eyes filled with tears._

 _"_ _Don't cry…" Prussia sighed, stopping once outside the door. He looked into the sweet round face of his baby brother, "Look, I'm not angry, I just need to deal with this alone, ok?" he brushed the tears away from the boy's cheeks, "Chin up, come on. I'll be able to play later ok?"_

 _"_ _With swords?" Luddy's face lit up again._

 _Prussia nodded, "Ja, if you want," he smiled back, "Now, wipe those tears and go start practicing. You're going to need it!"_

Prussia grabbed Latvia, wrapping the boy in a tight hug. "Please don't cry… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" he whispered, laying his head on the boy's shoulder. He wouldn't cry. He couldn't cry. The drugs wouldn't let him cry.

Latvia cried, wrapping his arms around Gil, resting on his shoulder, his tiny form shaking with the heaving sobs that forced their way out. "Gil, please… please Lithy's already died enough times, please… please, I can't watch you get hurt, I can't do it… please…"

Gil said nothing, looking back down at the syringe on the table. There were a few more drops, his fight. Just a few drops. Little by little, just a few drops.

"You're going to kill yourself… please…" Latvia sobbed, his hands balling into fists in the fabric of Gil's shirt. He pressed his cheek into too-prominent bones in Gil's shoulder, letting the taller country hold him tighter, "Please, Gil…"

Gil said nothing, closing his eyes. The drugs wouldn't let him cry. He wanted to be able to cry. He let his head rest against the soft blond hair, kissing the boy's forehead like he used to for his baby brother, "I'm sorry…" he couldn't cry, "Latvia I don't know how I'm going to stop them… I don't know how to…" he brought his hand to his mouth, choking and swallowing hard as his stomach lurched.

"G-Gil?" Latvia pulled away from him, looking at his face suddenly, "How sick do you feel?"

Gil just shook his head, standing and running towards the bathroom.

Latvia sighed deeply, shaking his head. He went to get Gil a glass of water. When he returned to the man's room he found him leaning over the tub, which ran with cold water.

"G-Gil?" Latvia held the glass towards him, watching as his wet hands shook too much to take the glass. "Are are are are are you ok?" He bit his lip.

Gil nodded with a smile, then rested his head on his arm, "More than just ok…" he laughed, shaking his head, "I'm pretty tired though…" his voice was choked and rough.

Latvia brushed away his tears and held the glass to Gil's lips, holding it as Gil tried to take it, "I'll help you…" he licked the salt off his lips as tears streamed down his cheeks. He set the empty glass beside the tub and lifted Gil's left arm around his shoulders, slowly trying to lift him. Gil was lighter than he'd expected. It scared him. He held the white-haired country to bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders.

Gil tossed them off shaking his head, "I'm too warm already…" his skin burned, but it felt cold. He opened his eyes, looking into Latvia's face. He didn't know what to say. He didn't think there was anything to say.

"W-when's the last last last time you ate something?" Latvia almost whispered, shaking.

Gil shrugged, "I don't know… a while…"

"Are are are are are… are you hungry?" Latvia tried to steady his voice.

Gil shook his head.

"I-If I get you something, will will will will you eat it?" Latvia tried to keep the tears back. He didn't want to cry, he wanted to help, but he could barely look at Gil. He wasn't sure if he was angry with him, or at the people who'd done this to him. It didn't really matter, he was crying anyway.

Gil shrugged again, "Maybe. Depends on what it is…"

"W-What would you l-l-like?"

"I don't know…" Gil's voice trailed off. He brought his hands to his eyes, grinning and half-laughing again. He felt horrible and amazing. His mind almost incapable of noticing everything that felt wrong, so incredibly wrong, with his body.

"T-Toast and honey?" Latvia asked carefully, "It it it it always helped me…"

Gil nodded, rolling onto his side, inhaling through his teeth as he accidentally hit the marks on his right arm. He ignored it, the rush keeping his mind from focusing on anything that wasn't bliss. The next thing he knew Latvia was standing next to him with a plate of toast and honey. He tried to eat, the kick slowly wearing off. He was so tired.

"I'm I'm I'm not leaving until you finish it," Latvia said, determined to keep Gil alive if he had to do it all by himself.

Gil smiled a little, nodding. His voice felt too rough to speak. He could barely eat the toast, but it was better than nothing. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. He looked up at the boy and smiled gently. He didn't know how to express it, but he was grateful. He told himself it didn't matter anymore if he lived or died, but at least to the little blond in front of him, it did.

…

"That's not good enough!" Germany slammed his hand on the heavy wooden table, shaking the water glasses sitting on top of it. He looked at the faces of the others, "I. Want. My. Brother. Home!" He snapped.

"Germany, please calm down," England shook his head, motioning for the tall blond to sit.

"Calm down? You're telling me to calm down! You and France left! You two promised to help my country recover from the war-"

"Which we did!" England shook his head, "We did help you! America has more resources! We're both still rebuilding!" England motioned to France, "Now sit down you bloody-"

"Germany, please," France shook his head with a sigh, cutting off England's insult in place of a more diplomatic answer, "We'll figure this out. We all want to help you get Gilbert back. That's why we're here, isn't it? This isn't a required meeting. I think you're forgetting we all want to be here, non?"

Germany gave a shaking exhale as he nodded, "Ja… Ja, I know…" he sat back in his chair.

"Look, bro, we know this sucks, ok?" America leaned forward on the table, talking with his hands just as much as his mouth, "But we're here to help you. Besides, Russia's new boss is starting to make changes. I think he thinks he's helping, but I'm gonna make sure the SU falls apart, and y'all are gonna help, right?"

England, France, and Italy nodded.

"Great, then that's settled!" America stood, "Let's break for lunch, and then we'll figure out a plan!"

Germany leaned forward on the table, pressing his forehead into his palms as America, France, and England stood and walked out of the room. He felt Italy's hand on his shoulder.

"Are you ok?" Italy smiled brightly, trying to look around Germany's hands to see his face.

Germany nodded. "Ja," he said simply.

"We'll get him back, I promise!"

Germany turned to look at the little redhead, "Do you really believe that?"

"I know that!" Italy grinned so widely he closed his eyes.

Germany smiled a little and nodded, "I want to believe you, I really do…"

"Hey! Stop being so pessimistic! Your brother is going to be fine! He's pretty awesome you know." Italy pat Germany's shoulder, trying to remind him, "You can't give up hope now! Russia's new boss is going to make mistakes, I just know it. We'll get him back, I promise."

Germany nodded slowly, sighing deeply, "I'll try to believe that, Feli…"

"Buona (good)!" Italy grinned, standing, "Now, we're supposed to be breaking for lunch. I was going to bring lunch, but I forgot, so we're going to have to eat something else…" Italy thought for a moment, "We'll have to be careful."

Germany looked up at him, confused, "Why?"

"If we're not, England might offer us some of his food, and then today would _actually_ be terrible!" Italy laughed.

Germany smiled very faintly. He wasn't interested in England's food either.

"So, I suppose we're going to have to find something else?"

Germany nodded, "All right, let's go find some food then."

"Ve!"

…

Germany looked at America, nervous.

"Hey, this is a good thing, remember?" America elbowed his arm, smiling.

Germany nodded, "Do you really think this will help?"

"Of course it'll help! You've gotta keep the troops spirits up, don't you?"

"Troops?" Germany asked, confused.

"I meant everyone. We're all fighting this war, aren't we? I can't be the only one who wants it to be over."

Germany nodded again, "You know I do."

"Yeah, then trust me, this'll help. I know they're listening on the other side."

Germany looked towards the gate, his view still blocked from his brother's side of the wall. He just wanted to see him, just once. He wasn't there. He turned back to look at America's president, standing on a stage at a podium with flags and press all around him. He shook his head. This had to be just a publicity stunt. He looked around at the faces of his people, warmth rising to his chest. The looks on their faces, the way they were holding hands, the way they looked up at America's boss… they had hope.

"There is one sign the Soviets can make that would be unmistakable, that would advance dramatically the cause of freedom and peace. General Secretary Gorbachev, if you seek peace, if you seek prosperity for the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, if you seek liberalization: Come here to this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!"

Germany closed his eyes, praying Russia's boss was listening, that his brother was listening. He looked down at America, who was grinning. He felt the country's hand slap his back, hard. He smirked a little, looking back at America's boss, who nodded to him with a smile. He looked back at the wall again, then at his people. He felt it too. Hope.

…

Gil fell to his knees, staring at the television as it panned across the crowd. There, standing next to the man in the leather jacket, was his brother. He was too far back in the crowd for Gil to see his face, but it didn't matter. It was his brother. He looked strong. He even saw him smile. He brought his hands to his face, leaning back against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest, and let sobs overtake him. He hadn't cried in so long, but his brother was ok. His brother was there, they were talking about tearing down the wall, and his brother was all right. Nothing else mattered, Luddy was all right. He looked back up at the television just in time to get another glimpse of his brother, closer this time. He saw tears on his brother's cheeks, watching the blue eyes follow the length of the wall. He shook his head. He wanted to be there. He wanted to be at the wall, listening on the other side. He wanted to scream so loud his brother would hear his voice. He wanted to hear his brother call back. He wanted to tear down the wall with his own hands.

He turned to see Russia standing in his doorway, leaning against the frame. The blue light from the television bounced onto the giant's face. He looked sad.

"Do you want to leave me…?" Russia's voice sounded choked, almost like there had been tears in it moments before.

Gil looked up into the violet eyes, "Ja. Ja I want to leave you. I want to get out of this house…" he stood, shaking his head, "I want to stop these drugs. I want to stop being your… bird… I want to see my brother again…" he stepped closer to Russia, his eyes flashing with the defiance he hadn't felt in a long time, "I'm going to go home."

Russia's expression changed, "This is your home, GDR. I still own you."

"Not for long. Your new boss is going to ruin everything you've worked for-" his voice was cut off as he felt the back of Russia's gloved hand on his cheek. He winced hard, taking a step back, his body instantly shaking with fear he couldn't control.

"I. Still. Own. You." Russia's voice was cold again, all traces of sorrow gone from his eyes, leaving only ice. Ice and anger. "And as long as that wall stands, you belong to me. As long as you're here, you obey me, you don't fight me, and you do whatever I tell you to do. Is that clear?"

Gil clenched his hands into fists, "Make me!"

Gil opened his eyes, suddenly realizing he was on the floor. He brought his hand to his throbbing cheek. There was blood on his fingers as he drew his hand back. He looked up to see Russia towering over him, pipe in hand.

"Don't fight me, GDR. It would be much easier for you if you didn't. You know that, da?" Russia smiled, that horrible, sickening, childish smile.

Gil watched as the giant turned and walked out of his room. He stayed on the floor, too weak to move. He wasn't going to give up. His people were fighting back. His brother's people were fighting back. He wasn't giving up. He couldn't give up. He would keep fighting. Russia could do whatever he wanted to him. He would keep fighting.

* * *

A/N: So... as I'm sure you can all tell, I'm advancing the story! I wanted to try and stretch it to chapter 89 before the wall comes down... we'll see if that happens. I'm thinking I can't wait... we'll see. I've been really wanting to write what happens as, and after, the wall does come down, and so I'm speeding on ahead. There's still a LOT to cover before we get to November 9th, 1989, but we're getting there. Gil is still HORRIBLY dependant on those drugs, and WAY too weak to really fight back towards Russia, but we got to see a glimpse of Gil as he was before at the end of the chapter. But the Gil we saw, in the beginning, is still his 'normal'. But that fight is still in him! Yay!

I know it's been a while between updates. I'm acting in a show right now (Original Cast in a show! Woohoo!) and... this sounds like such a silly excuse... I'm playing a really really rich character, and I have to wear fake nails, and they're really hard to type in, and saying that makes me sound so prissy, but it's for my character, I hate them lol. I can't do anything. I literally took them off just to write this chapter and I'm gluing them back on tomorrow lol. That's how sick of them I am, lol. Anyway, more chapters to come soon. Now that I'm getting towards the wall coming down, I do feel more motivated to update. I was having a bit of trouble with adding MORE to the horrible, awful, violent-ness that is living in the SU... even though I do love writing some good angst (that isn't over, trust me. Gil has to RECOVER from all of this, remember!? As do the others...) but yeah, looking forward to keeping that hope for the 'end' in there! (not the end of the story, but the end of the SU! YAY!)

Thank you so much for all the continued reviews! I love reading them! :D :D yay! They really do encourage me. I hope you all like this chapter! 3 Cookies and hugs and pumpkin bars and apple cider for everyone! yum!


	73. Chapter 73: Alike

Chapter 73

"You asked to see m-" Gil froze as he looked in Russia's office. A cold chill went down his spine. He pulled his hands behind his back, shaking so hard he had to force himself to stand. He looked right into the icy grey eyes of the man sitting across from Russia at the desk. The man smiled, standing and walking towards Gil.

Gil tried to steady his breathing, pleading with his body to stop shaking. He forced himself to look up into General Winter's face. He winced, grabbing the doorframe to steady himself as the man reached towards his face. He shook his head, looking up at Russia, terrified.

"Please…" He cried out, clutching at General Winter's wrist as the giant grabbed his face, turning it towards him, kicking him to his knees.

"Russia's been telling me all about how rebellious you've been…I can't have that. You're supposed to be helping him make the USSR stronger… isn't that right, GDR?"

Gil didn't answer, trying to claw General Winter's hand away from his face, struggling to stand as the giant kept him down.

General Winter threw him to the ground, stepping towards Russia again, grabbing the tall country's wrist and pulling him forward, letting go, kicking him down.

"Both of you, get up!" General Winter ordered.

Russia stood instantly, looking up at General Winter.

Gil dragged himself to his feet, glancing over at Russia. He didn't like how much fear he saw in the man's eyes. He looked back at General Winter.

"Now, we're going to go downstairs, and I'm going to teach you both a lesson, is that clear?"

"Da," Russia said without hesitation, taking off his coat and setting it aside, returning to stand at attention in front of General Winter.

Gil watched Russia, trembling still as he looked back at the giant man in front of him. "I… yes, sir…" he whispered, his voice shaking badly.

"I will allow you both to walk downstairs as long as you give me no trouble. I'm not opposed to dragging you if I have to."

Gil nodded, seeing Russia do the same. They both turned towards the door. He looked at the back of Russia's head as he walked between him and General Winter. Russia was in trouble too? General Winter wouldn't hurt him, not badly, there was no way… was there? He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want General Winter there. Anything else he would have gladly endured, but not General Winter. The world seemed to move in slow motion as they walked down the long halls. They passed the Baltics, who all looked away, just as terrified of General Winter as the rest of the house. Slowly they defended the grand staircase to the main floor. Gil felt sick. It felt like they were both being paraded before the house, passing every room from where the others could see them. They stopped at the kitchen. Gil looked at the giant closed door across from the kitchen's welcoming, open wood frame. He tried to steady his breathing. He could do this. He could survive this. He'd survived General Winter before, many times. He turned to the kitchen to meet Hungary's eyes as she stared at him. He saw her hands shaking as they balled into fists. She wasn't afraid. She was angry. He watched as her eyes moved from him to the giant behind him, meeting his ice-cold eyes.

"Don't you dare hurt him!" Hungary snapped, grabbing a frying pan from the hooks on the wall.

"I'm going to teach them. Make them stronger. That's I do. I make things strong, and I kill things that are weak. You don't want me to think these two are weak, do you?"

Hungary swore, rushing towards General Winter, swinging her frying pan at his face.

General Winter's head snapped to the side as the frying pan collided with his cheek. He laughed, turning back to Hungary and grabbing her wrists, pulling her up by her arms until her legs kicked frantically in the air. She dropped the pan, trying to throw it towards his head. It clattered to the ground.

"Let. Go!" She snarled, trying to kick for his belt and just below it.

"Fine," he smiled, slamming her to the ground.

Gil knelt next to her immediately, putting his hand on her shoulder, touching her head gently. She didn't move, "Liz, please…"

Slowly, she opened her eyes, lifting her head. She turned to General Winter immediately, "How's this for strong!?" She pulled herself up and kicked him between the legs, elbowing him hard on the stomach.

The giant winced, but barely. He grabbed both of her wrists again and smashed her body against the wall, lifting her up off the ground, avoiding her kicks.

"I'm impressed," he grinned nodding to her, laughing as she tried again to kick him, "But you are in my way." He brought his hand to her stomach for a moment and she screamed. He let go, dropping her on the ground.

"Liz!" Gil ran to her again, kneeling beside her. He looked down at her hand as it clutched her stomach where General Winter had touched her. He could see ice through her fingers. He moved her hand carefully and closed his eyes, shaking his head. Ice, tiny shards of ice, were poking up through the fabric of her dress, buried in her skin.

"It… doesn't hurt…" she lied, "I'll be fine… don't do anything stupid…"

"Like what you just tried?" he whispered, trying to pull one of the spikes from the wounds. He stopped as she screamed again.

She nodded, "Yeah, like that!" she pushed his hand away, grabbing her stomach, looking up at General Winter. "What did you-"

"Don't worry, it'll feel better once it melts" General Winter smiled coldly, "Which will take a few hours. You'd better stay on the ground. Don't EVER get in my way again, da?"

Hungary nodded, shivering. Her body was cold, freezing, the horrible feeling spreading from her stomach up to her chest. She shook her head, trying to ignore the pain.

"You'll pay for this, Winter!" Prussia stood to face General Winter, "Don't you DARE touch her again!" He slammed his fist into the giant's face as hard as he could, splitting his knuckles. He didn't care, satisfied to see a dark red gash dripping on the man's cheek. He gasped suddenly, forced to his knees as General Winter grabbed his hair, kicking his legs out from under him.

"Oh, you're going to pay for that…"

"General, please!" Russia stepped between Winter and Prussia. "We should just go downstairs… we can deal with him there…"

"'We'? I believe I'm dealing with you too, Russia," General Winter opened the door to the stairs and dragged Prussia them. He threw him down by his hair and turned to Russia. "Your turn." He pushed him hard, watching with satisfaction as Russia's body tumbled down the stone steps and didn't move at the bottom. He looked back at Hungary as she grabbed the leg of his pants.

"Don't. Touch. Them." She looked up at him, her eyes piercing with hatred.

He kicked her away, the steel toe of his boot hitting her chin. She released the fabric in her hand immediately and didn't move, her split chin bleeding heavily. General Winter rolled his eyes, looking away. He closed the door behind him as he walked down the stairs. He grabbed both Russia and Prussia by their hair and dragged them towards the giant black door.

Prussia struggled, trying to pry General Winter's hands off of him, trying to break free, to kick his way to standing, to make it difficult to drag him anywhere if nothing else. He stayed down as General Winter threw him into the room. Russia was next to him seconds later. The blonde country didn't move, turning to look up at General Winter. Gil shivered. Russia looked terrified. He gasped again as General Winter pulled him up to his knees, grabbing his shirt and ripping it open, then throwing him back to the ground, hard. He struggled, his fingers grasping for the stone floor as General Winter dragged him down a few feet and forced him onto his back, pinning him down, kneeling on his legs so he could kick.

"Struggle, and I make this worse. Let's begin the lesson…" General Winter smiled, pulling out the same sharp blade that Prussia was too used too, and terrified of.

Prussia struggled, trying to kick General Winter off of him, trying to grab him and toss him off, trying to grab his throat, trying to do something, anything to keep that knife away from his chest.

"Russia, get over here, make yourself useful for a change," General Winter snapped, nodding the tall country over.

"No!" Prussia struggled harder, trying to roll onto his side, trying to get away. "Please, please, don't!" he shook his head, fixing his eyes on the blade which glittered in the dim light. He felt Russia's hands on his wrists. He looked up, trying to see Russia's face. He couldn't be happy about this. He couldn't want this. "Russland bitte!" he screamed, watching Russia close his eyes and turn his face away. He gasped as he felt the knife against his cheek. He turned to look up at General Winter again.

"Don't struggle, it makes it worse," General Winter whispered, bringing his face close enough to Prussia's to make him shiver.

Gil closed his eyes, shaking his head. He winced, shaking as he felt the cold tip of the knife press against his chest.

"You know how this works. Don't scream."

Gil set his jaw, clenching his fists as tightly as he could, his nails digging into his palms. He didn't care. He closed his eyes tighter as the blade started to press into his skin. He screamed.

…

Gil didn't move, looking up at the black stone ceiling. He heard the door close in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes. He didn't want to look down at his bleeding chest. He felt numb, cold. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to look over at Russia, whose breath was heavy with pain. He opened his eyes again, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

"G-Gil?"

Gil didn't respond. He had nothing to say to Russia.

"Gil, please…" Russia whispered, dragging himself towards the white-haired country with a faint gasp of pain.

Gil turned to look at Russia, closing his eyes with a sigh. He didn't want to pity him, but it was impossible not to. Russia's body, bared to the waist, was covered in bruises and blood. General Winter had used the pipe. Gil set his jaw, "Now you know what it feels like," he turned away.

Russia laughed.

Gil turned to look at him again, confused.

"'Now'?" Russia laughed darkly, "'Now' I 'know what it feels like'?" Russia shook his head, trying to stop the laughter that kept rising into his chest. It was better than tears. He would rather laughter than tears.

Gil said nothing, waiting for Russia to continue.

"You really think you're 'used to' my lessons don't you!?" Russia almost snapped, shaking his head.

No answer.

"You think you know all about me, but you have no idea!" Russia shook his head again, forcing down the catch in his voice.

"I know enough to hate you."

"I don't care. Everyone does. I'm used to that."

"Then why are you trying to earn my pity?"

"I don't want your pity!" Russia snapped, wincing hard, grabbing the deep wound in his own chest, "I want you to know why I want you to be stronger, you and the others! I need you to be stronger!"

"You're not even strong, not according to him," Gil nodded towards the door.

"I've never been strong enough for him…" Russia shook his head.

"How long has he been-"

"As long as I can remember, Gil. That ma-" Russia stopped himself, "That monster… he raised me. He raised me, Gil. He taught me everything I know. The things he did to me… You of all people should understand."

"Understand what?" Gil snapped, his body aching with every breath, "Understand that you're a psychopath and I hate you!?"

"Understand what it's like to be willing to endure ANYTHING to protect your family."

Gil turned away, "You have no idea what you're-"

"Oh yes, I do!" Russia cut him off, "I know very well! Do you know what it was like to have him as a father!? To have my Tzars and Tzarinas? Do you think they were kind to me!? While you had your Frederick the Great, I had Peter and Catherine…" Russia's voice broke. He tried to pass it off as pain, "And what do you think they did to me?"

"Don't try that. Half the world knows you were Catherine's lover!" Prussia looked away.

"I never said I wasn't… but she…" Russia closed his eyes, shaking his head, "She's wasn't a kind woman. She traded my people to nobles for their loyalty… she was… she didn't… she didn't care if she hurt me, yet she said Russia was the most important thing to her… but the most important thing to Catherine was herself… she lets General Winter hurt me… and he did. We made a deal that he could do whatever he wanted to me… to make me 'stronger' as long he left my sisters alone I would never fight him… that deal still stands…. You should be able to understand that much," Russia snapped, "I know how much you care about your brother."

"Then let me see him!" Prussia turned to look at Russia again, "Don't you DARE talk about my brother. Not after what you've done."

"What you've done."

"NEIN!" Prussia shook his head, turning a cold glare to Russia. He was too weak to move. He wanted to at least punch him. "It was me or him, and I wasn't going to let you have my brother."

"Then you do understand," Russia turned away again, collapsing onto the floor, his arms giving way. They refused to support his weight anymore.

Prussia said nothing. He did understand. He didn't want Russia to know he cared.

"You and I… we're very much alike, Gil…" Russia whispered, his voice weak.

"I am NOTHING like you!" Prussia said as loud as he could, his voice betraying more pain than he wanted it to.

"Father seems to think so?"

Prussia felt sick. "F-Father…?"

Russia smiled sadly, though Prussia wasn't looking, "Winter. General Winter…"

"You just said he-"

"Yes. But in the end, he's always been there. He always comes back… I've gotten stronger… he's a good General. He's defeated almost everyone that's attacked me. You would know…"

Prussia ignored the insult, keeping his face away from Russia.

"You said you hate me…"

"Because I do."

"Go ahead. Hate me. It's less confusing than anything else. Hatred isn't confusing. Hatred is easy."

Prussia set his jaw. He nodded. Hatred was easy. He wanted to hate Russia with everything he was. He tried to force himself not to care about Russia's story, not to care about the 'man' who raised him, his 'father'. He pushed the words aside. He hated Russia, and that wasn't going to change.

* * *

A/N: Oh, look! I'm not dead! XD Here we go! Another chapter! So... as I think I mentioned, I was having a bit of trouble figuring out more plot... so... General Winter shows up to add more plot! Also some stuff about Russia's past. Poor kid. Russia's VERY sane in this chapter, and we get to see a side of him that he likes to hide. Maybe this will change how Prussia acts around him? Maybe...? But anyway, having General Winter in the house is scary.

Historical note: Peter I and Catherine II did both reign during the same span of years that Prussia's Frederick the Great did. His reign was VERY long actually (1712-1786 I believe...?) So yeah. Catherine the Great was almost famous for taking many noble lovers, and she was obsessed with making Russia all things Russian. She used Western influence to 'moderinize' the country, but all with a Russian twist. Also, there were still serfs at the time. She would give them away to her loves and nobles to keep their loyalty, especially with all the revolutions the serfs started durring her reign. (shocking, considering they were being traded, don't you think?) She wasn't the greatest woman in history... there are a lot worse, but she's not really that 'great'... (bad pun. I'm sorry.)

Thank you so much to all reviewers, old and new! I LOVE reading your reviews and I can't wait to read the new ones! I really do love reading them. Keep them coming! :D Cookies and hugs and lemonaide to all!


	74. Chapter 74: Happiness

Chapter 74

"Who are you dreaming about?"

Prussia lifted his head suddenly to the sound of Russia's voice. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. He winced at the chains that held his wrists above his head. He shifted to his knees, trying to relieve some of the stress on his arms. He didn't look at Russia, moving again, trying to ignore the burning through his arms. His fingers were numb.

"How long have I been asleep?" He asked simply.

"An hour? Maybe two. It's hard to keep track of time like this," Russia shook his head, looking down.

Gil could hear the stress in his voice. He turned to look at him. Russia was still chained with his arms behind his back, leaning forward, his knees bent to keep the stress off his wrists. Gil winced. There was no way Russia could avoid straining his arms, shoulders, and back. He tried not to care.

"How… how are you holding up?" he asked finally without looking at Russia.

"I'm doing fine… you?" Russia looked over at him.

"Same," Gil lied. He tried to ignore the cracked dried blood on his chest. It felt stiff and the smell of his own blood made him feel sick. Or maybe it was the drugs. He couldn't tell. He could feel the needle mark in his neck. He hadn't expected General Winter to be kind enough to give it to him. He was more grateful for the mercy than he would dare to express or show. He didn't want the General to think he was weak. The stronger he was, the less pain he'd have to survive. He tried to move, tried to make himself more comfortable. He felt pins and needles in his fingers as he tried to move them. He glanced at Russia again, then away. He didn't want to talk to anyone, least of all Russia, but the silence made it harder to keep his mind off the screaming marks on his body. He tried to think of something funny to say, something to distract himself, but he could barely think in complete sentences, let alone jokes. He closed his eyes again, sighing deeply, trying to remember one of the few happy memories he had since the war, though even it was tainted with horror. He smiled faintly, forcing back tears. He wasn't going to let Russia see him cry, or worse, General Winter. He didn't know when he'd be back.

"Did I fall asleep, or did I pass out?" He hoped he'd fallen asleep. It stung his pride to think he couldn't stay conscious.

"I don't know. Once he gave you the drugs you didn't last long," Russia's voice was weak.

"Did I say anything stupid while I was high?"

Russia smiled a little, shaking his head, "Unfortunately, nyet."

"I still hate you, by the way. Just because I'm talking to you, don't think I don't!" Prussia turned away, then looked back at Russia.

Russia smiled sadly, "I know you do. I don't you I'm not angry with you for that, didn't I?" He turned to look at Gil's face.

Prussia looked away again. He didn't like the look in Russia's eyes. He hadn't seen Russia so weak in hundreds of years, not since he was a child. He bit his lip. He'd been less than kind to him, even as a child.

"You know, I was kind of an ass when we were kids."

Russia nodded, looking back at Prussia, "Da. You were."

"Ja, um… yeah."

"Are you trying to apologize to me?" Russia looked back at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Um… ja? Nein… I… don't know…?" Prussia looked away.

"It doesn't really matter anyway, does it? I still own you, GDR."

"Thanks for that reminder."

"Don't talk to me like that," Russia almost snapped.

Prussia looked up at him, a shiver running down his spine. He'd expected Russia to change just because they were tied up together? He shook his head at his own stupidity. Russia wasn't going to change.

There was a long silence, neither of the two countries wanting to speak to each other.

Russia's arms and shoulders burned unbearably. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain. Trying to ignore the ache in his chest where General Winter's knife had left its mark. He turned to look at Gil again, who'd turned away from him.

"You never answered my question, GD-, Gil…"

Gil turned to look up at him again, "What question?"

"While you were sleeping… who were you dreaming about?"

"Why do you ask?" Prussia looked away again.

"I thought I heard you… crying…?" Russia's voice was almost kind.

Gil sighed deeply. He didn't know if he wanted to answer Russia. Maybe when he was less sane, he would use it again him. He wasn't sure it mattered, "I was dreaming about… her…"

"'Her'?"

"The girl you made me kill… so many years ago now…" Gil closed his eyes, still turned away from Russia. He tried to choke back the tears. He didn't want Russia to see them, "I bet you don't even remember her name, do you?"

"Adelaide Muller, da?"

Gil turned to look at him immediately, shocked, "You… you do?"

Russia nodded, "Da. I remember. I didn't like doing that to you…"

"Oh really? You didn't like it?" Prussia turned away, his breath catching in his burning chest.

"She couldn't live, GDR… you know that… you knew that then-"

"Why did you make _me_ kill her!?" Gil looked back at him. He didn't care if Russia saw the tears anymore. His half-numb hands closed into fists.

"I was loosing you, I needed you back… And I'm sorry it had to be that way. but-"

"Would you have killed the boy?" Gil cut off Russia's words. He didn't expect an apology, and he didn't want one.

"What?"

"If I hadn't…. if I hadn't done it… would you have shot the boy?"

"Does it matter if-"

"It matters to me!" Prussia snapped, looking straight ahead. He couldn't look at Russia.

Russia sighed deeply, closing his eyes. He remembered everything almost as vividly as he was sure Gil did. His hands around Cort's shoulders, the end of his pistol pressed into the boy's head. The soft light brown hair that tried to hang in the child's face. The way the boy had clutched at his arm, screaming for Gil not to kill his sister. He'd had his finger on the trigger, threatening to fire if Gil didn't follow orders. Adelaide's tears, her mother's screams, the look on Gil's face. The pain in his own chest as all the memories of the pain his Alexei endured while watching his mother and sisters die… He hadn't wanted to do that to him again. He couldn't have done that to him again…

"I don't know. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't followed my orders. But I wasn't going to let her live. And I was going to make you kill her. You couldn't have gotten out of that. And your choice meant no one else had to die."

Prussia shook his head, "What a great answer," he said under his breath.

"I probably would have had my men shoot the little girl first, then the mother, I would have saved Cort for last… I hear the sister is doing well, by the way, on the other side of the wall… again… and what an escape she had… da?" Russia turned to look right at Gil's face, which had turned to his in shock, "Da, I know all about what you did."

"You never-"

"Nyet. I've been too busy with other things. Besides, having to deal with your boss is punishment enough for you. Even I don't like him. He's useless. Useless and frustrating!"

Prussia half-laughed, "Oh look, something we can actually agree on."

Russia smiled a little, trying to move his shoulders a little, trying to find a different uncomfortable spot to give his sore muscles a chance to relieve his more-sore muscles. He looked back at Gil again, surprised to see the very slight hint of concern in his eyes. "I'm fine."

"I didn't ask," Gil looked away. He bit his lip. He wanted to be satisfied to see Russia in pain. He wasn't. "Try leaning back against the stone. If you do it right, you'll take pressure off your knees and your shoulders. The cold will probably feel nice on your back too. It'll help."

Russia looked at him, confused, "Chto? What" He corrected himself to the language they both spoke at the confused look on Gil's face.

"I saw one of my prisoners do that once. He lasted days longer than the others, so I assume it helped," Prussia still didn't look at Russia.

Russia sighed, slowly trying to lean back far enough to rest his shoulders on the black stone, stretching his legs forward. It still was far from comfortable, but it did relieve his shoulders and arms. He let his head fall back against the stone and took a long, deep breath, the first he'd been able to manage in hours.

"Spasib-" he stopped himself, "Danke, Gilbert."

Prussia looked up at him, shocked to hear his own language coming from Russia's mouth. "Bitte…" he whispered, turning away again. He wasn't sure he liked Russia speaking German. It felt both reassuring and violating. He already owned him, he didn't necessarily want him speaking his language. But something about hearing a voice other than his own speak even just one word of his language was more comforting than he would admit.

"The chains he used for you," Russia's voice was considerably less strained, "The bolt in the wall is loose. If you work on it hard enough, it'll probably free your hands, at least from the wall."

"And make General Winter mad? That sounds like a great idea."

"It might be worth it."

Prussia considered it. His arms still burned. He wasn't sure he actually had enough strength to pull the bolt from the wall. Part of him wanted to try it. He tried not to listen to that part of him. He looked back at Russia. The man's eyes were closed as he leaned back against the black stone. His chest was covered in as much blood as Prussia's own was, maybe more. Prussia saw dark red marks and thin bleeding lines across Russia's ribs. He didn't think he was supposed to ask about them.

"Did he do that while I was out?" Prussia nodded to the marks.

Russia nodded slowly without opening his eyes, keeping his head resting back.

"And?"

"And I didn't make a sound," Russia said, almost proud of it.

Prussia sighed, shaking his head, "How long has he been-"

"As long as I can remember," Russia lifted his head, sighing deeply again, "Like I said before, there's nothing he's done to you that he hasn't already done to me, and much, much worse, many, many, times."

 _"_ _Nyet! Nyet, Pozhaluysta! Nyet!" the little blond boy screamed, grabbing at the arm dragging him down the staircase. He looked up at his sisters huddled at the top of the stairs, the younger crying on the older's shoulders. He kicked and fought, looking up into the icy grey eyes that stared straight ahead, never looking at him._

 _…_

 _Terrified violet eyes looked up at grey as the giant held a knife to his neck. The boy didn't move, almost too afraid to breathe._

 _"_ _Don't scream."_

Russia gasped, turning his head to the side, looking away from his own memory. It didn't feel like his. It felt like he was looking at someone else, some other little blonde boy, so weak, so terrified, crying so much… he'd gotten stronger, so much stronger. He let his head fall back against the stone again, keeping his eyes open. He didn't like what he saw when they were closed.

Prussia looked away. He'd never seen Russia trembling before. It scared him. If General Winter could terrify Russia… he didn't want to think about it.

"R-" Gil stopped himself, looking up at Russia again, "Ivan?"

Russia looked at him instantly. It had been a long time since he'd heard anyone other than his sisters use his name, his real name. "Da…?" he asked almost hesitantly? What did Gil hope to gain by using his name?

"Have you ever been happy?"

Russia looked away again. He hadn't expected Gil, or anyone else, to ever ask him that. He didn't have to think to answer it.

"Da," he smiled, closing his eyes, sighing deeply, "Da…" he whispered, "I was the happiest man in the world… once… jut once…"

Prussia looked up at him, confused, "What happened?"

 _"_ _Catch me!"_

 _Ivan turned, looking up with a laugh as Anastasia jumped from a tree branch just above his head. He caught her into a hug, "You shouldn't go jumping out of trees, silly little thing!" he grinned._

 _"_ _Well, you caught me didn't you?" She beamed, sliding down from his arms and running towards her brother, who sad in one of the garden's chairs, a sad look on his face._

 _Ivan walked up to the fragile dark-haired boy, "Why so sad, Little Sunshine?"_

 _"_ _I really did want to run and play… but Dr. Botkin said I can't today because my legs were bleeding yesterday…" he looked down._

 _Ivan lifted his chin gently, "Well… since you're being so very brave about it all, and cheerful too, about I take you on the ship for a ride this evening, da?"_

 _Alexei's face lit up, "Really? I love sailing! I love it so much!"_

 _Ivan laughed, "I know. So, today isn't really so bad then, da?"_

 _Alexei nodded, grinning._

 _"_ _And now I suppose we should take you inside for dinner…" Ivan pretended to look around, "But it seems we left your ride back at the house…"_

 _Alexei laughed, "You carried me out here, remember?"_

 _"_ _Oh, that's right… I guess I'll just have to carry you back then." He smiled, turning around and kneeling, "Get on," he nodded to the boy. He smiled as the child climbed onto his back, and he carefully caught his legs, "Am I hurting you, Alyosha?"_

 _Alexei shook his head, "Nyet. I'm fine. Just don't run…?"_

 _Ivan smiled, nodding, "I won't run."_

 _"_ _Perfect!" Alexei grinned._

 _…_

 _Ivan put his hands on Olga's shoulder, resting his chin on them, looking down at her sketching._

 _"_ _What are you working on, now?" He grinned._

 _She jumped, pushing him away with a smile, "Don't sneak up on me like that! I might pull my gun on you!"_

 _"_ _Oh! I'm terrified, Olyashka."_

 _Olga pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear, "You should be."_

 _Ivan smiled, looking back at her sketch, the wind blowing his hair in his eyes. He tried to move it out of his face gracefully, failing miserably._

 _Olga laughed, taking the ribbon bookmark she kept in her sketchpad and tying it around his head, pulling his hair back, "There. Now you can see."_

 _Ivan rolled his eyes, "Really?" he pointed to the bow._

 _Olga giggled, "It doesn't really suit you," she smiled._

 _"_ _Hmm…" he pulled the bow from his hair and pushed the stray piece of hair back over her ear again as the wind tried to blow it into her eyes, "How are you sketching in this wind…?"_

 _"_ _Carefully," she smiled, "But the fountain does look beautiful in it, don't you think?" She pointed to the sprays of water that leaped off the streams coming from the fountain._

 _"_ _Da, beautiful," he whispered._

 _"_ _You didn't even look."_

 _"_ _I don't have to," he smiled._

 _"_ _Ivan… please…" she blushed._

 _"_ _I'm sorry, I'll stop," he smiled still, looking at the fountain, "I agree. It is beautiful. Now, will you show me your sketch?"_

 _Olga laughed, shaking her head, turning her paper so he could see it, holding down the corner to keep the wind from turning the page._

 _Ivan smiled, "It's beautiful too," he looked up at her again._

 _…_

 _Ivan brought his hand to his mouth, trying to hide his laughter as one of the female guests at the very important dinner squealed suddenly, pulling a strawberry from her shoe. He looked right at Alexi, who bit his lips into his mouth, trying not to giggle. He gave the boy a slightly chastising look, far too entertained to be really angry. He looked up at Nicholas, who was considerably less amused. The Tsar was apologizing profusely to the female guest, saying he had no idea how such a thing could have happened._

Oh yes, _Ivan thought,_ I'm sure it had nothing to do with Alexei sneaking under the table earlier… _he smiled at the boy again._

 _…_

 _Ivan smiled as Alexei leaned against his side, the whole family sitting in the upstairs sitting room with a few of their closest friends, mostly servants, and Alexei's doctors. It was Christmas._

 _"_ _Aren't you going to open your present, Alyosha?" Ivan asked, petting the boy's hair gently._

 _Alexei shook his head, "Nyet. It's from you, so I want to save it for the very last present."_

 _"_ _Oh?"_

 _"_ _Da! Because it will be special."_

 _Ivan looked at him, his heart melting. How could this angelic little boy care so much about him? He almost wished he didn't. He had so much blood on his hands, he'd done so many terrible things… but this child loved him. He looked up at the whole family, tears welling up in his eyes. Maria was hugging her new doll with a giant smile on her face as she tried to show Anastasia, who was far more interested in one of Alexei's toy soldiers than Maria's doll. Tatiana sat next to Alexandria, both of them looking over the details of the embroidery pattern she'd just opened. Nicholas and Olga also sat side by side as they flipped through a giant book of the works of great artists together, discussing quietly what they liked or didn't like about the works._

 _Ivan looked back down at Alexi, "I think you have the last present now, Sunshine."_

 _Alexei smiled, turning to the package wrapped in shiny silver paper. Slowly, careful not to rip it, he pulled the paper away from the paper box. He looked up at Ivan, smiling._

 _"_ _Well, open it," Ivan nodded._

 _Carefully, slowly, Alexei opened the box. He looked up at Ivan instantly, his mouth open with surprise, his eyes lighting up with joy._

 _Ivan smiled, "Do you like it?"_

 _Alexei nodded, to shocked to speak. He lifted the tiny ship from the box, holding it up for everyone to see it. The glittering candlelight shimmered on the glossy details._

 _"_ _Did you see the name?" Ivan asked._

 _Alexei turned the ship to look for the name, "The Alyosha…" he looked up at Ivan again, tears filling up his eyes, "It's the most beautiful ship in the whole wide world."_

 _"_ _Maybe someday we'll build it for real, da?"_

 _Alexei nodded, "Da!" he set the ship down carefully, then reached up to wrap his arms around Ivan's neck, crawling up to sit up on his knees on the couch so he could hug Ivan properly._

 _Ivan wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him gently, but firmly too._

 _Alexei laid his head on Ivan's shoulder, letting himself be held. He whispered gently, "Can you be my brother forever?"_

 _Ivan smiled, nodding._

"Ivan?" Prussia whispered. He'd never seen Ivan cry before, not once. But tears streamed down the man's cheeks. "Ivan?" he asked again.

Russia opened his eyes, not looking at Prussia, "Happiness… is not the fate I've been given… but… but I glad… but I'm glad that just once… I got to know what it was like…"

* * *

A/N: This chapter... This chapter broke my heart. I think I cried writing this one more than any of the others. This is the "Real Russia" That Lithuania mentioned so early on in the story. A man most don't get to see... Gil only gets to see it now because he's so weak and so alone. They both get to have some important conversations here. And you all get to learn more about Russia. And I get to write about the Romanov family, which is one of my favorite subjects in all the world. One of my favorite things to write about. I've studied them so much... so much... such a beautiful family. Btw, that thing with the strawberry in that woman's shoe? Yeah, Alexei really did that. ;)

Reviews are, as always, so deeply appreciated! Thank you guys so much for continuing to review and read this story! Hugs to you all! And some Russian treats for you. Strawberry's Romanov (Strawberries, Sour Cream, and Brown Sugar. It's deliscious I promise) for you all. A dish created for Nicholas II and his family in fact. Enjoy! And again, extra hugs!


	75. Chapter 75: Idea

Chapter 75

"Papa? Oh, sorry…"

"No, please, it's all right, Matthew, you can come in," France smiled, nodding to Canada, who had just opened the door.

"Oh… ok…" Canada smiled faintly walking through the door and into the kitchen to make himself a snack. He glanced back up at France, who sat across the table from a beautiful blonde girl. They were leaning over a stack of papers, sorting through them, pencils in hand.

"So…" the woman said, confused, "So if I want that," she pointed to one of the papers, "Then I have to get this?" she pointed to another paper, looking up at France.

He nodded, "Oui, um, at least, it'll make it much easier… you'll get tired if you have to do that all by hand."

Gisela nodded, looking back at the papers, "So… whipping cream is harder than it sounds?"

France stifled a laugh, "Much harder! You haven't made it before?"

Gisela shook her head.

"Well, if you're going to own a cafe, you have to learn to make whipped cream! Come on, stand up!" he laughed, standing and motioning for her to follow him towards the kitchen. "Gisela, this is Matthew, my son. Matti, this is Gisela, I'm helping her with a business project," He spoke as he grabbed a bowl and whisk, setting them on the counter. He turned to the fridge.

"Hi…" Matthew said shyly, waving carefully, pulling the cuffs of his red sweatshirt half over his hands.

"Hello," Gisela smiled, waving back, "So… if you're France's son…"

"Oh!" France laughed, setting the cream on the counter, "This is Canada."

Canada looked at France, shocked, "You…"

"Don't worry, Baby Bear, she knows all about the Nations," France put his hand on Canada's shoulder with a reassuring smile.

"It's ok if you don't really want to talk to me, Canada… I know all about being shy…" she smiled very kindly.

Canada smiled back very faintly, "No, it's ok. I just wasn't expecting to see you here…"

France poured the cream into the bowl and slid it across the counter to Gisela, handing her the whisk, "Have at it then," he chuckled, shaking his head, "When you get tired let me know and I'll get out the hand mixer."

"Ok…" Gisela laughed too, taking the whisk and starting on the cream. She looked down at the barely bubbling liquid. This was going to take a while. "So, Matthew," she spoke as she whisked, "What's it like in Canada? Is it cold?"

"Everyone thinks that…" Canada shook his head, "But it's not always! Sometimes it's lovely and warm, and the fishing is fantastic, and everyone is really nice and people shouldn't ignore it but they all do and it's actually quite upsetting!" Canada frowned.

"People ignore you?" She asked, slightly amused by how upset he'd become.

"All the time!" Canada continued, "Alfred and F-"

"Alfred?"

"America," France nodded.

"Oh…"

"Yes," Canada continued, "Alfred and France are the only two countries who can actually SEE me half the time!"

Gisela looked at him with an incredibly confused expression, "See you?"

"I'm invisible," Canada pouted.

"Oh, I'm sure it's not quite that bad-"

"Non, he's literally invisible to most of them," France sighed, "But, Baby Bear, that just means you haven't been in all the wars the rest of us have."

"Well, I fought in the second world war… not that anyone remembers that…"

"Did you come here just to complain about being ignored, or…?" France tried to change the subject.

"Well… I thought we were going to spend the day together today… but I guess you forgot…"

"Forget?" France shook his head, "Non! I just thought we were meeting in an hour…?"

"We are, but I was bored so I thought I would come over early. I'm sorry for interrupting… what are you two working on over there?" he tried to look over at the table, knowing full well it was too far away for him to actually see anything on the papers.

"Well, Gisela is visiting from Germany because she's going to move to Paris."

Gisela smiled, looking down to concentrate on the still-very-much-liquid cream in the glass bowl in front of her.

"She's going to open a cafe in the city, and I'm helping her."

"He's currently trying to convince me to get a big electric mixer, and I'm starting to think that it might be a good idea…" She tried to whisk faster, switching arms. Her left wasn't as strong, and it felt clumsy, but her right arm was so tired, "Ok Francis… I may need that mixer now…"

France laughed, "Well that didn't take long." He ducked below the counter on the island they stood at and pulled out the small hand mixer, plugging it into the wall. "There. Try that," he smiled, giving her the mixer.

"Much better," she grinned, speaking a little louder as the mixer made a horribly loud noise.

"You know… if you really wanted to have a nice cafe, I could send you some maple syrup! Especially in spring when it's fresh and nice," Canada smiled a little, looking at Gisela.

"Really? That would be amazing… what do I do with it? I don't think I've ever had it…"

"What!?" Canada froze, shocked. He looked into her face, his jaw dropping, "You've never had maple syrup! You poor thing! I'm so sorry!"

Gisela laughed, right along with France, who went to the fridge again. "Well," she asked, "What do you do with it?"

"Put it on everything," Canada nodded, "Absolutely everything."

Gisela smiled again, "Like, what? Give me some ideas!

"Well… toast, pancakes, bacon, more bacon, squash, pumpkins, sweet potatoes…" Canada continued the list.

Gisela looked at France, who shrugged, "You got him going."

"Oh!" Canada brought his sweatshirt covered hand to his mouth, "Was I listing too many things…?"

…

Prussia looked away. The sound of General Winter's knife in Russia's chest made his skin crawl. Russia didn't make a sound. He wasn't sure if it was worse or better how silent he was.

"Look," General Winter ordered.

Prussia didn't obey, keeping his face turned towards the door, away from Russia.

"I said, 'LOOK'!" General Winter grabbed Prussia's face, turning it towards his, leaving Russia's blood dripping down his neck. "You're shaking…?" General Winter asked with a laugh.

Prussia kept his eyes on General Winter's face, trying to force the trembling to stop. He hated it. He didn't want General Winter to see him as anything but strong. Looking weak, being weak, was dangerous.

"You need the drugs again, don't you?" General Winter smiled a little, turning Prussia's face, looking at the marks on his neck.

Prussia shivered, trying to move his head, trying to get away from the hands he didn't want touching him. He tried to ignore the General's obvious amusement at his useless struggle. He couldn't fight him. He turned away, setting his jaw as General Winter's hands slid up his arms. He opened his mouth to cry out in pain, holding it in with the last of the willpower he had as he felt General Winter press against the deep infected needle marks in his arms.

"Does that hurt?" General Winter smiled, digging his fingers into the wounds, pulling on them, pressing into them, "Painful?" he taunted as Prussia squirmed.

"What is wrong with you…?" Gil grit his teeth, turning away, trying not to show how much it hurt, trying not to prove how badly he needed the drugs. He swore under his breath, wincing again as he felt a hand grip his face. He looked into General Winter's icy eyes and shivered, trying to keep the defiance on his face to hide the fear. He looked over to Russia as he heard a faint groan come from his side of the room.

General Winter turned to Russia, standing and walking away from Gil.

Prussia shivered, keeping his eyes on Russia's face, trying to ignore the blood, trying to ignore the sound of General Winter's hand sliding into Russia's chest.

 _Just, please…_ Prussia winced, looking away, D _on't scream…_

…

Lithuania brought the pillow over his head, trying to drown out the noise. He couldn't take it. The screams infected the night even more than the cold. He felt sick, praying each cry would be the last, hoping each long silence meant it was over, that General Winter had gone to sleep, that he'd left them both alone.

"Torshka?" Bela asked, her voice low and rough from barely woken sleep.

He felt her cold fingers brush the bare skin of his back and turned to look into her blue eyes, which sparkled almost purple in the dim light. He touched her cheek, worried, "Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" She closed her eyes, shaking her head, leaning into his hand, "I'm only being kept awake by my brother screaming because my father is… hurting him… again…"

Lithuania sighed deeply, "I know…" he turned away, shaking his head as another scream rang through the house, this time from Prussia. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the sound to stop. It didn't. He brought his shaking hands to his face, shaking his head again. He breathed faster as the screaming didn't stop.

"Torshka?"

He heard her voice very faintly, her words echoing in his head though he couldn't understand them. He looked up, trying to look around his room, trying to find something to focus on. Everything blurred together, colors slurring in the dim light from the open curtains. He felt a hand, stronger than even General Winters, pressing on his chest, wrapping around his heart and squeezing it until he couldn't breathe. He pressed his hands into his face again, shaking as Belarus took his wrists gently, pulling his hands down. He pulled away from her touch on his face. Why hadn't the screaming stopped? It had to stop. It had to stop…

"Torshka, Torshka I'm right here, please! Look at me…"

He tried to focus on her face, his breathing slowly steading to normal, the pressure on his chest releasing. The screaming stopped. He looked down for a moment, then back up at her, "I can't take it. I can't… I can't listen to it anymore, I just… I have to do something. I have to," his breathing wasn't as steady as he wanted it to be.

"Toris… he'll kill you…" Belarus touched his face, shaking her head, "Please, please don't…"

He shook his head, "I have to," He threw the covers off, shivering as the cold air hit his skin. He stood, reaching for his clothes. He sighed as Belarus's hands slipped around his shoulders, her cheek pressing onto his scars.

"Bela…" he was shaking. He couldn't do nothing. He had to do something. He had to stop it somehow. He would rather be beaten with them than have to listen to it. General Winter scared him even more than Russia. But he couldn't do nothing. He shrugged Bela's hands off his shoulders, turning to look at her.

"I have to do this, Bela. It's your brother, don't you want me to help him too?"

"How can I help?" She smiled, looking up into his face, "I'm not as afraid of Father as I should be. Need a distraction?"

Lithuania shook his head, "Never. I would never ask you to do that. But, neither of them have eaten…"

"I can make them something."

"Quietly?"

She nodded.

"Ok. I'm going to go see if Estonia will help. He's better at planning this kind of thing than I am."

"And Latvia?"

"General Winter would kill Latvia. It's better if he stays asleep."

Belarus nodded again, "I'll make some broth? Do you think that would help?

Lithuania nodded, "I don't think they'll care. It's been almost 3 days…"

Belarus grabbed her dress and slipped it over her head, smiling at Lithuania one more time before walking out of his room towards the kitchen.

Lithuania threw on clothes and turned to the door. He closed his eyes hard, shaking his head again as more screams rang through the house. He turned the corner of the hallway towards the stairs and stopped. Poland was waiting for him.

"You're going to stop him, aren't you?" Poland asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

Lithuania's hands shook. He hid them behind his back, nodding, "Yes. I'm going to try…"

Poland sighed deeply, then rolled his eyes, "That's, like, a really bad idea… you know that."

"Do you have a better one? All I need is time for Bela to get them food. That's all."

Poland smiled, "Ukraine is already in the kitchen making them food. Looks she had the same idea you did."

"I can't-" he waited for the screams to stop before speaking again, "I can't keep listening to this. I can't keep letting this happen to them. Not if I could do something about it…"

Poland sighed again, shaking his head, "Well I can't let you face General Winter alone." Poland extended his hand to Lithuania.

Lithuania looked at Poland's hand, "I let you put yourself in danger again, Feliks…"

"Like you get to choose! Come on, Liet, just like old times! Fighting bad guys! Working together! Being the best team in the world… besides, what's dying a few more times for me? I like, totally have to keep my nickname… like, meaningful, don't I?"

Lithuania half-laughed, "'Pheonix'? That one?"

"Yeah. Coolest nickname ever, right?"

"I can't watch him hurt you…"

"Then don't look," Poland shrugged, motioning to his hand again, "Well?"

Lithuania sighed, and took Poland's hand, "Ok."

"Great!" Poland started running down the stairs, practically dragging Lithuania behind him. When they reached the black door, he stopped, Lithuania almost running into him. He looked at the door for a moment with a sigh, glancing back at Lithuania. "You're shaking…" he whispered.

Lithuania shrugged, "Normal. Don't worry about me."

"Fine…" Poland winced hard at the sounds coming from the other side of the door. He felt sick. Prussia was barely making noise anymore, and what low screams he did were rough and broken. Poland looked up at Lithuania again. "You scared?" he whispered again.

Lithuania nodded, "You?"

Poland nodded back, then set his jaw, turning to the door again. He was scared, but he was even more angry. He slammed his fist on the door, "Hey ice-brain! Pick on someone your own size for a change! You want strong!? Try me!"

Lithuania stared at him as there was total silence on the other side of the door for a moment before heavy footsteps approached the door. Lithuania wasn't sure he wanted to see what was on the other side. He could already smell the blood. He bit his lip, crossing his arms over his chest to hide their shaking as the heavy door scraped open.

* * *

A/N: New chapter up! yay! Finally! Took me long enough! One of my real-life jobs involved a LOT of typing this week... tired fingers lol. XD Anyway, here you guys go. Some cheerful happiness in the beginning, thanks to Canada and France and Gisela! (I REAAAAALY love writing France and Gisela. No ship for those two though, they're just good friends. France is almost older-brother-y. Maybe even kinda like a father too? Since she really doesn't remember her own. Also, Dad France to Canada is adorable... so adorable...)

Aaaaaand then General Winter. He's not finished with Gil and Ivan yet... but Liet and Feliks have had enough... and so you guys get a cliff hanger. There certainly doesn't look to be any way for this to go well... Also Poland being brave as anything here. It's safe to say he's basically back to 'normal'. Adorably fearless. Also, had to mention his nickname. XD

As always, reviews are deeply appreciated! Thank you to everyone who keeps reviewing! I know life is busy, and I haven't seen a few regulars lately, but that's ok. I still love you guys! :D I really hope you liked this chapter. More to come soon. General Winter is a problem that will need to be dealt with somehow after all... hopeing it won't be a week between uploads this time! :D *hugs*


	76. Chapter 76: Ghosts

Chapter 76

Belarus kept her cheek pressed up against the door to the basement, trying to listen for any hint of General Winter's distraction. She heard his voice slicing through the cold air, sharp and low in rage. She closed her eyes, wincing hard as she heard both Lithuania and Poland cry out in pain, then the closing of a door, lighter and smaller than the giant black door that kept Prussia and Russia locked away. She hadn't heard that one close. She turned back to her sister.

"Is the food ready?" She kept her voice low, almost a whisper.

Ukraine nodded, "It's just some vegetable broth, and some water… is that enough?"

Belarus nodded back, "It'll have to be…" she bit her lip.

"Oh no!" Ukraine covered her mouth with a gasp.

"What? What's wrong?" Belarus put her hands on her sister's arms, looking into her face.

"Gilbert. He's going to need drugs… If he doesn't get them…"

"I don't want that…" Belarus looked back towards the basement door. She didn't exactly like Gil, but he'd suffered enough. She couldn't do that to him too. Not if she could help it. "Do you know where they are? The drugs I mean?"

Ukraine shook her head, "No… I wish I did. I know where the painkillers are of course, but… that's not enough anymore. I don't know where he keeps the He… what GDR needs…" Ukraine bit her lip hard.

"All right…" Belarus sighed deeply, looking back towards the hallway, "I'll go to Russia's desk and try and find-" She turned back suddenly, looking to the corner of the kitchen, staring into the face of a child. His face was thin, skeletal, but his eyes sparkled. Belarus's breath caught in her throat. She looked up at the others with him: two men, one woman. Gilbert's ghosts.

"W-," she trembled, "Why are you here?" her voice broke, squeaking on the last few letters as her breath shook.

"Bela?" Ukraine stared into her sister's face, shaking, "Bela what are you seeing…?"

Belarus didn't respond to her sister, keeping her eyes fixed on the faces of the four ghosts, "Why are you here?" she asked again.

The little boy stepped forward, "Because he needs our help."

"I promise, we mean him no harm, only help," The woman spoke. Her voice was gentle, mothering, and kind.

"He's afraid we're angry with him," The taller of the two men said.

"Why would you be angry…?" Belarus asked, her eyes filling up with tears. To look into their faces broke her heart. There was so much pain, so much sorrow, yet she couldn't look away.

"Because… he's the reason… for this…" the shorter man rolled up his sleeve, revealing numbers so bold, so deeply tattooed, that they were clearly visible on his translucent skin.

Belarus brought her hands to her mouth, looking up into the man's eyes. The pain radiating from the four ghosts was almost more than she could stand. Her heart ached until it burned, and tears spilled over her cheeks.

"But we are not angry…" the woman spoke again, "We've been watching him, trying to talk to him… but he's afraid of us. He thinks we're going to take revenge… but that's not why we're here. Please, let us help you. We want to help you help him."

"Please…" The young boy said, "Please, he is in pain…"

"How can you help…?" Belarus asked, looking into the woman's eyes.

"We know where the drugs are," The tall man explained, "We can take you to them. But we have to hurry."

"General Winter isn't he being distracted by-"

"Yes," The shorter man cut off her words, "But we're losing him."

Belarus looked at them, confused, "He'll heal, he-"

The woman stopped her, "No, no he can heal physically… It's his mind that's fading. General Winter has almost destroyed it. Everything he was, everything he needs to be, we're losing it. We have to hurry. If we get him drugs, if we talk to him before, when he can see us… we might be able to save him."

Belarus nodded, turning to look back at Ukraine, whose face was almost white with terror. She couldn't see the ghosts, but she could see her sister's face.

"Bela… what's wrong…? Please…"

"The Ghosts. They… they want to help. They want to help Gil…" she turned to them again, "Can you make yourselves visible to my sister?"

Ukraine's soft scream proved their answer.

Belarus turned to them again, "Thank you. Please, show me where the drugs are for Gil."

The ghosts nodded, motioning for her to follow them down the hall.

She ran to keep up with them, her mind swirling. They had to be telling the truth. They didn't want to hurt Gil, they wouldn't, the pain in their eyes was too honest, they couldn't want to hurt him… could they?

…

"Wake up."

Lithuania opened his eyes weakly as his head was pulled back by his hair. The room wasn't brightly lit, but he blinked in the sudden light, pulling his head away from General Winter's hand. He groaned. His head throbbed where it had collided with the wall. General Winter had thrown him against it after he'd tried to stop him from choking Poland. Poland… he couldn't see Poland. He looked up, more alert suddenly, trying to see him, trying to scan the room, still blinking in the light. He wasn't there. He struggled suddenly at the ropes that bound him a chair, and looked up at General Winter, shaking with both fear and anger.

"Where's Feliks?" He asked, the trembling in his voice revealing the fear he wasn't trying to hide.

"Just in the other room," General Winter said, standing in front of Lithuania, his arms crossed over his chest.

"What are you going to do to him?"

"Shouldn't you be asking what I'm going to do with you?"

"I don't care," Lithuania shook his head, "What are you going to do to him?"

"The same thing I'm going to do to you."

Lithuania swallowed hard, shaking so badly he could almost hear his teeth chattering, "And?"

"Are you asking what I'm going to do to you?"

Lithuania nodded.

"I'm going to torture you."

Lithuania nodded again, looking away. He didn't care if General Winter hurt him, but Poland…

"You know, you and Poland, you really do care about each other, don't you?" General Winter walked behind Lithuania, his voice low and taunting.

"Yes. He's my best friend… I would die for him!" Lithuania's voice was more confident, stronger.

"Interesting, he said the same about you."

"He's awake?"

"Yes."

"And?" Lithuania swallowed hard again.

"He's waiting. He knows I came to talk to you."

Lithuania breathed faster, trying to stop his body from shaking, trying to slow his heart's pounding in his chest, "Just waiting?" He cried out in pain suddenly as General Winter's hand gripped his neck where it met his shoulder.

General Winter smiled, "Do you think Poland liked hearing that?"

Lithuania set his jaw. He couldn't do this to Poland.

General Winter let go of Lithuania's shoulder and walked back in front of him, lifting his chin high enough to strain his neck, gripping his jaw. He turned his face slowly, pulling it to the side hard enough to barely reveal the usually concealed scars under his collar.

"Russia left theses on you, didn't he?"

"Yes," he didn't see a point in lying. He felt General Winter's icy fingers slip under the fabric, pulling at it.

"I want to see them," General Winter smiled, pulling out his knife.

Lithuania closed his eyes as the blade slipped under the collar of his shirt, cutting away at the fabric until it was ripped away from his back. He gasped again as General Winter pushed him forward. He winced, closing his eyes. His still-tied arms aching as they were strained by General Winter's motion. He shivered as the rest of the fabric coverings back was torn away. He kept his head down and his eyes closed. He could almost feel General Winter smiling.

"There's a lot of pain behind these marks… isn't there?"

Lithuania nodded, "Yes…" he tried to keep his voice from breaking.

"I like pain… it's a good teacher… da?" General Winter said, his words completely void of all emotion.

Lithuania shivered but said nothing.

"You would know," General Winter ran his hand up the deep jagged lines etched into Lithuania's back, "And my Russia… he really did all of this himself…?"

"Yes…" Lithuania whispered, closing his eyes, "Are you proud of him?"

"Da. Very…" General Winter continued to press into the scars, looking down at Lithuania's back, "I don't know if I could have done better… they're beautiful…"

Lithuania shivered again, shaking his head, "Russia was right… he was right you are a monster…" he grit his teeth.

"He said that? About me?"

Lithuania nodded.

"He's right."

Lithuania closed his eyes, hating every second General Winter continued to touch his back.

"But none of these are new…" General Winter sounded almost disappointed, "How long as it been?"

"Not long enough," Lithuania whispered, his eyes still closed.

"He's still weak… after all these years… I tried to teach him…" The giant whispered as he almost caressed the scars.

Lithuania squirmed, earning him a slash from the knife across his arm. He bit back the cry of pain, turning to look back at General Winter.

"I'm impressed. But I suppose… you're used to pain aren't you?"

Lithuania said nothing, keeping his head down, not daring to look back at General Winter.

"Not like Russia," General Winter smiled, "I build him out of pain. It's how he thinks…"

Lithuania shivered as he felt General Winter breathing on the back of his neck as the giant leaned in close behind him, more threatening with every breath.

"Everything he does, everything he thinks, every time he breaks you," The giant walked around Lithuania, lifting his face again until he met his eyes, "All of it from pain… I taught him to think in it. And he's still. too. weak!" He struck Lithuania's face almost hard enough to knock the chair to the ground, "But you," he grabbed his face again, "You're used to it, aren't you? Being in pain? Tell me…" he touched Lithuania's face almost gently, "Does it even hurt anymore?" he gripped Lithuania's throat, not looking for an answer. He let go, stepping back and looking down at the dark-haired country in front of him. "You have no idea how weak you are, do you!?" he slammed his fist into Lithuania's face, sending his head back for a moment.

Lithuania looked back into General Winter's, "I thought you were going to torture me…?" He licked blood off his lip.

General Winter smiled, "Oh… I am…" he sheathed his knife and walked behind Lithuania, grabbing his hair and forcing his head back. He leaned down close to Lithuania's ear, whispering with icy breath, "I could let Russia beat you all day and all night, and it wouldn't cause as much _pain_ as I am going to…"

Lithuania breathed hard as he closed his eyes, the shaking getting worse again as he felt the grip on his hair release. He brought his head up, bracing himself for whatever General Winter was about to do. He jumped as he heard the door close, but not lock. He turned quickly, looking behind him. General Winter wasn't there. He shivered, struggling a little at the ropes around his wrists, keeping them bound to the sides of the chair. The dead silence was almost as chilling as General Winter's hands. The only sound in the room was his own breathing, heavy and fast with terror. He wrapped his fingers around the sides of the chair, gripping until his hands were numb. He waited, ready to hear the door open, to feel General Winter's knife or a whip at his back. Anything. Anything except waiting. He closed his eyes, trying to process General Winter's words, trying to prepare himself for whatever pain the giant intended to inflict.

"LIET!"

Lithuania turned to the wall across from him, the wall he faced, the wall he was closest to.

"Feliks…" he whispered, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall.

Another scream, louder this time and without words.

Lithuania closed his eyes, shaking his head, "Please… please no…" he whispered, biting his already bleeding lip.

"TORIS!" the scream rang through the room.

"FELIKS!" he called back, struggling against the ropes as hard as he could, desperately trying to free himself. He had to get to the door. It wasn't locked, he had to get to the door… He couldn't get free. He turned to look at the wall again, tears filling his eyes as more screams rang in his ears, screams of pain. His chest ached, every muscle in his body working to get free from the ropes that weren't going to loosen. The tears spilled over his cheeks as Poland screamed for him again. He couldn't get to him. He could stop it. He couldn't get free. He couldn't save him. There was nothing he could do. General Winter was right.

…

"Here, hurry…" Belarus motioned Ukraine and the ghosts towards the giant black door that stood part way open. She stopped at the door, the others behind her. She covered her mouth, gagging. The smell of blood was overwhelming. She turned to look back at Ukraine, who'd turned as white as her shirt.

"We can do this…" Belarus nodded to her, whispering.

Ukraine bit her lip, but nodded back, gripping the pot of soup and the spoons.

Belarus looked down at the drugs in her hand. They were powder. She didn't have time to do anything other than grabbing as many bags as she could. She'd found 6. She didn't know if that was enough or too much, but she didn't care. She glanced back at the ghosts one more time before slipping in through the opening in the door, not daring to move it in case it made too much noise. She froze, her mouth falling open as she brought her hand to it. She barely registered her sister running past her and kneeling next to their brother, frantically touching his face, wiping away the blood with her bow after ripping it off her neck.

Belarus turned to look at Gil, rushing to him and kneeling in front of him. She touched his face gently, trying to lift his head. Her hands stuck to the blood on his face. She wiped them on her dress, brushing his white hair, soaking with sweat and blood, back off his face.

"Gil?" She asked gently.

He answered with a faint groan, opening his eyes weakly, trying to focus on her face. He shivered, biting his lip in pain.

"We brought food…" She tried to sound reassuring, looking into his face while trying not to look at the rest of him. He'd been stripped to his shorts and the proof of General Winter's brutality was all over his body, covering almost every inch of bare skin. She took off her apron, lifting it to his face, trying to wipe away the dried blood. She glanced back at Ukraine with her brother. He was slightly more conscious than Prussia, but barely.

Belarus reached for a bowl, filling it with the soup and bringing the dish to Prussia's lips, "Please… drink if you can…" She held up his head, tilting the bowl gently.

He tried to drink, the hot liquid spilling down his chin, stinging in the cuts. He pulled away, wincing, inhaling through his teeth. He could barely feel anything except pain. So. much. pain. He winced again as she wiped the broth off his chest. He swallowed hard, his throat so dry his tongue wouldn't even stick to the roof of his mouth.

"W-water?" he choked.

Belarus nodded, grabbing the glass and lifting it to him again, carefully tipping it until the precious clear liquid touched his dry lips. The glass was empty in seconds.

Gil shivered again, gasping for breath. He could feel his hands starting to shake. "D-Drugs…?" he didn't want to ask. He hated having to ask. He didn't want this…

Belarus nodded. She looked up at his hands, still chained above his head. She sighed in relief, they were locked in such a way that she could unlatch them. She did, catching him as he fell forward onto her shoulder, his arms falling limp at his sides. Carefully, she laid his head on her lap, letting him rest against her legs. She pulled the drugs out of her pocket, handing them to Gil. She bit her lip, looking down at him as he buried his face into the bags, breathing deeply, taking as much as he could, pressing it against his nose and mouth desperately, his body shaking. She pet his hair, turning away. She felt sick. Finally, she looked back at him as she felt him stop moving. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was almost normal. His left hand, covered in the white powder, resting on the ground beside him, his right still at his side. He didn't move. She kept petting his hair gently, turning to look up at the four ghosts as they walked forward.

Gil tried to breathe normally, the drugs just barely strong enough to hold off the withdrawal, but not nearly enough to make him high. He didn't move, just letting his body take in the drugs, just wanting to feel close to normal. He shivered suddenly, a deep, chilling cold biting into his chest. He looked up, expecting to see General Winter, but it was ghosts. Four ghosts. The same for ghosts as always. He tried to push himself away from them, too weak to accomplish his goal.

"Please…" he whispered, closing his eyes. He opened them slowly when he felt a hand touch his cheek. The hand was very thin, but the touch was comforting. He tried to look at whoever was touching him, expecting it to be Belarus. One of the ghosts, the woman, had her hand on his cheek, touching it gently.

"Gilbert…?"

Her voice was so soft, so gentle and kind that it almost took his breath away.

"Please…" he whispered, "Please don't hurt me… Please, I'm so sorry… I'm so so sorry…" he felt a sob rise in his throat, but his body was so starved of water there were no tears for him to cry.

"Gilbert, we aren't here to hurt you, and we never were," One of the men said from behind him.

Gil tried to turn to look at the man, but the boy caught his eye. He was so thin, so fragile. He just wanted to hold him, to apologize until he had nothing left. He reached for the child's hand weakly as the boy sat next to him.

"Gil… we…" the little boy started, "We're here because we wanted to forgive you. We wanted you to know that we forgive you."

"W-what?" Gil whispered, looking into their faces, "You… you what?"

"We forgive you."

"I was so wrong, I-"

"We know," The woman spoke again, "That doesn't change that we forgive you. For all you've done to us. We really, truly, forgive you."

Gil broke, deep, dry, choking sobs taking over his body. He buried his face in Belarus's dress, gripping the grey fabric. He kept the little boy's hand in his, letting the woman pet his hair. He didn't care about the pain anymore. Nothing else mattered. He couldn't believe them. They couldn't really forgive him… but the hand running through his hair was so gently, almost mothering. There was no hatred in her touch, no anger, only kindness. He didn't deserve it, but it was being given to him. He tried to stop crying, tried to hold in the sobs. But it didn't matter. The weight on his chest felt lighter, the deep starting to lift. Forgiveness… he would fight. He would fight back. He would stand up with his head held high again. He would heal, he would accept their forgiveness.

He opened his eyes finally, looking up at the woman as she started to fade away, her touch on his hair lightening. The boy's hand slipped through his fingers, and the two men were already gone. The woman was the last to fade, her hand gently brushing his cheek once more. He looked up at Belarus weakly.

"Did I dream that whole thing… or…?"

Belarus spoke through tears, quickly brushing her eyes and returning her hand to Gil's hair, "No. No, I saw them too… I heard what they said…"

"Forgiveness…"

* * *

A/N: Another chapter up! YAY! It's quite late here, so I won't be saying too much here in these author's notes.

Many (though not all) of the Jews did say they forgave many of the guards and people who hurt them. I think that is one of the noblest, bravest, most incredible things I can eve imagine someone doing. So I had to add it in. The ghosts have faded away. They've done what they wanted to do. To help Gil. To give him some peace. Bloodied and hurt as he is... forgiveness is a very powerful thing. One of the most powerful things in the world. I think, perhaps, second only to love.

Thank you so much for all the reviews (and so quickly!) on my last chapter! I look forward to hearing all of your thoughts on this one! Cookies and lemonaide for everyone! And birthday cake. It's my aunt-in-law's birthday today, so birthday cake for all! :)


	77. Chapter 77: Enough

Chapter 77

"Had enough?" General Winter snarled, pulling Lithuania's head back by his hair again.

"Yes…" Lithuania whispered, trying to hold back the sob in his throat, trying to stop shaking. He couldn't stop shaking.

"So weak," General Winter threw his head forward hard enough to strain his arms again.

Lithuania winced, turning to look back at the Giant, "Is he alive?"

"I'm not going to tell you. I'm going to show you."

Lithuania didn't bother struggling as his numb hands were unbound from the chair. He barely felt the handcuffs click around his wrists as he was kicked off the chair to the ground, then dragged towards the door. He fought to get to his feet, trying to shake his head and arms free from General Winter's grip. His head was kept down by the giant's hand as he was forced through the door, around the corner, and through another door. The light was brighter in the room, though he could only see the floor. There was blood on it. He winced, rolling to his side as General Winter dropped him to the ground. He looked up slowly, gasping.

"F-Feliks…?" he whispered.

Poland laying on the ground on his back, his hands at his sides, his face turned away from the door. His bare chest was coated in blood, the long deep wounds from years ago reopened and raw. Red prints from General Winter's hands were all over him and the floor.

Lithuania tried to drag himself towards Poland, struggling again as General Winter grabbed his cuffed wrists. He felt the chains unlatch. He scrambled to his feet, running to Poland and kneeling beside him, turning his face gently.

"Felek, Felek, can you hear me?" He whispered, brushing the sweat-stuck hair out of his friend's face. The green eyes were open but didn't focus on him. He hit his cheek, gently, trying to wake him, "Please… Felek, please…"

Poland blinked hard, groaning, taking a deep, shaking breath. He looked up at Lithuania. "You're… like… totally late again…" he forced a smile.

Lithuania didn't even try to hide the tears, looking down at Poland's chest, "Are you ok…?"

Poland nodded, "Yeah… totally fine…" he forced himself to smile, wincing hard, "Phoenix, remember?"

Lithuania nodded, turning to look back at General Winter. He couldn't think of anything to say, he just stared at him, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"He'll live," General Winter shrugged, walking out of the door and closing it behind him.

Lithuania heard the bolt latch. He didn't care. He looked back down at Poland's chest, "I'm sorry…"

"This isn't… your fault…" Poland whispered, his voice strained, "Do… do you think the girls… got to them…?"

"I hope so," Lithuania bit his lip. Poland needed help, more help than he could give on his own. He needed Estonia. He looked at the door. No one would hear him… unless the girls were still downstairs. He prayed they weren't. General Winter was going back to Gil and Russia, and if they were there… he didn't want to think about it.

…

Belarus looked up as the giant black door started to creak open wider, the long shadow of General Winter breaking through the dim light of the hallway. She looked back at her sister. They weren't getting out of this. He would find them and he would see everything. She turned to the door again and stood, laying Prussia's head gently on the stone, her blood-soaked apron beneath his head. She lifted her skirt, pulling out the giant knife she kept at her thigh. She looked towards the door, ready to distract the General herself if she had to. She couldn't let him touch her brother. She glanced back at Russia, who had barely moved enough to drink the broth.

The door scraped against the stone as General Winter's boot hit the stone floor of the room.

Belarus turned to look up into the ice-grey eyes.

"Hello father…" she whispered, her voice shaking.

"Bela. Are you finished 'helping' them yet?"

She took a step back, her stomach churning as if punched, "How… how did you…"

"Why else would Lithuania and Poland dare to interrupt me? They're not that stupid. I knew about their 'distraction'. I made them pay for it. But you…" he grabbed her right wrist suddenly, lifting her off the ground.

Belarus kicked, struggling to wrench her hand free. She kept her fingers locked around the knife. She wouldn't let go. She tried to flip it in her hand, trying to stab it into his arm.

He laughed, throwing her against the wall.

Belarus winced hard, reaching for her head with her left hand. It hurt, but it wasn't bleeding. She felt sick suddenly, her skin going cold. A deep ache settled into her side under her ribs. She brought her hand to it, her eyes widening with realization as her breath quicker, heavy with pain. She didn't want to look down.

"Bela!" Russia tried to stand, dragging himself towards her with Ukraine's help.

She fell back against the wall, sliding down it until she met the floor. Slowly, she pulled the knife from her skin, in too much pain to cry out. She pressed her hands over the wounds, staring forward, trying to think. She glanced at Prussia, who looked up at her with horror in his face. She closed her eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her bleed.

 _"_ _IVAN!" She screamed, kicking at Germany as he clawed at her legs. She'd stabbed him in the leg, sending him to the ground. She gasped, falling forward as the bigger country's hand closed around her ankle. She hit her head on the cold ground, struggling as he pulled her back towards him, turning her onto her back._

 _"_ _No, no please!" She begged in her own language, grabbing for the knife she wore at her hip. She wasn't fast enough. She gasped in pain as Germany's bayonet drove into her ribs. She looked up at him, the grey sky behind his head drawing her attention away from his bloodied face. Smoke took the place of clouds as her homeland burned. She looked back into Germany's face. His eyes were heavy with rage, his bleeding mouth curled into a threatening smile._

 _"_ _RUSSIA!" She screamed again, trying to kick her way out from under the blonde country. She kneed him below his belt, turning and pulling herself up as he was distracted by pain. She stabbed her knife into his left shoulder where it met his neck, down into his body past his collarbone. She left the knife, taking a step back, frantically looking searching for her gun._

 _"_ _Looking for this?"_

 _She felt cold metal on her neck beside her long platinum braid. It was Prussia's voice. She didn't dare turn. She looked down at Germany as he pulled her knife from his shoulder, standing slowly, looking into her face. Where was her brother? He promised he'd come for her. He had to be seeing this. She was protecting the border. She was trying to keep Germany away from him. He had to help her. She was trying to keep him safe… She set her jaw hard, closing her eyes for a moment, determined to risk it. She moved her head, elbowing Prussia hard in the chest, grabbing for her gun. She brought the pistol forward firing three shots into Germany's chest. She gasped, dropping the weapon. She looked down. Her own knife was buried into her stomach, Germany's hand closed around the hilt. She could see the scarlet tip of Prussia's bayonet tearing through the fabric of her uniform. She grabbed Germany's collar in an attempt to steady herself as her knees gave way. She fell to the ground, taking Germany with her, his own breath choked with blood._

 _Vaguely, she heard Prussia run around her towards his brother, drawing his bayonet from her body. She closed her eyes, her vision blurring. Slowly, she opened them again, looking up at the grey sky. It was warm… why was it warm…? She didn't see Germany or Prussia. She looked up, turning her head, trying to look back towards their troops. They were leaving. They'd done it. She'd done it. She'd kept them out, away from her brother… He was going to be safe… She turned again, looking behind her towards the warmth. Fire. The flames drew closer, the wind forcing them to catch the dry grass of the field. She closed her eyes, waiting for it to reach her._

 _She pulled the knife from her body, letting it drop to the ground. She coughed blood, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pushed the blood from her mouth. She looked up again, trying to see her brother. He had to be there. He had to be coming for her… The world started to go black, the grey sky fading away at the edges. She tried to hang on, she had to wait for Ivan. He would come. He would be there… he had to be there…_

 _"_ _Natashyen'ka?"_

 _She barely heard her brother's voice. She felt his strong hands around her, one under her head, one pressing into the wound in her stomach. She could feel the blood soaking the back of her uniform. More tears fell down her cheeks. She couldn't sob, her body wouldn't let her. She looked up into her brother's face, barely able to see it through her blurred vision._

 _"_ _I-Ivan…?" She whispered with a faint smile. He wasn't hurt. He was alive…_

 _"_ _I'm here. I'm right here…" he pet her face, "You did so well… spasiba, Natashyen'ka…"_

 _She smiled faintly still, coughing more blood again. His hand petting her cheek was comforting, "Are you… are you proud of me…?"_

 _He nodded, "So very much…"_

 _"_ _Do you love me?"_

 _He didn't answer, only lifted her up carefully, letting her head rest on his shoulder, "I'm taking you home."_

 _She didn't argue, closing her eyes, consciousness slipping away._

"Natashyen'ka…?"

Her brother's voice faded in. She looked up at him, her eyes refusing to focus. She blinked hard, trying to look at his face, "Ivan…?" she whispered. She wanted to reach for his face, but her arms refused to move.

Russia turned to look back at General Winter, "We had a deal! You made a promise! You said you would never hurt her! Or Katya!"

"I didn't," General Winter said coldly.

Russia looked back at Bela's hand, closed around her knife. He had to do something. He couldn't leave her like this. He was too weak to fight General Winter. He couldn't fight him. He couldn't win this. He closed his eyes, then looked back down at his little sister, so small, and bleeding so much.

"Natya…" he touched her face with his bloody hand, trying to provide what comfort he could. She scared him more often than she didn't, but she was his little sister…

Prussia looked at Belarus, shaking his head, angry. He looked up at General Winter and forced himself to stand. He struggled to walk forwards, barely able to hold his head up. He stood in front of General Winter, his hands closing into fists.

"Are you _still_ trying to fight me?" General Winter looked down at him, amused.

"Yeah, I'm awesome like that," Prussia snapped.

General Winter laughed, shoving Prussia back to the ground easily and turning to Russia, grabbing his hair and dragging him towards the middle of the room, pulling a knife from his belt.

"Get away from him!" Prussia stood again, grabbing for General Winter's hand on Russia's hair.

"Nyet!" General Winter grabbed Prussia's neck, still holding the knife, letting it cut across the white skin.

Prussia didn't move, looking up into the grey eyes, "I'm not afraid of you…" he whispered.

"You should be," General Winter threw him down again.

Prussia winced as his head slammed against the stone ground. He tried to sit up, his head spinning. He felt sick, the world moving in slow motion. He opened his eyes slowly, his vision blurry. He tried to figure out what he was seeing, trying to process. The room was brighter suddenly, figures running through the room. They were all white, their skin translucent and bright. He looked back at Belarus. Three of the figures were near her. He turned to General Winter. He couldn't see him. The white figures were all around the giant, and one of them, a boy of around 14, was kneeling beside Russia on the floor. Prussia felt a hand on his cheek. He looks up to see a young woman, bangs on her forehead and a bow in her hair, leaning over him.

"You're going to be all right…" she smiled, her expression kind, loving.

He looked up at her, confused. Her mouth hadn't moved, but he'd heard her clearly. He felt her hand on his hair, brushing it away from his face. He closed his eyes, the world going black.

* * *

A/N: Something of a shorter chapter... but here you all go! Another update already! :D :D :D So... who are the ghosts? ;)

A bit of WWII history again here. VERY condensed, but the Germans occupied Byelorussia (as it was then called) from 41 to 44. But they didn't get very far into Russia. In total, they killed an estimated 2,230,000 people... which is why Bela was so badly injured. This scene was sad... This chapter, in general, was sad... (my gosh poor Poland...) but it ends with some hope I think. Maybe? You'll all see soon. :)

Thank you all for the reviews! :D yay! I really REALLY love reading them! Even if they're really short, I still love them! Thank you all! *hugs* Have some cocoa for this one. It's getting a bit cold anyway... so cocoa for comfort and warmth. :)


	78. Chapter 78: Dreams

Chapter 78

Gil closed his fingers around something soft. Soft and warm. He moved his hand. Covers. Warm, heavy covers. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The room was dim, soft light streaming through slits in the curtains at the open windows. He breathed in the air, warm and pleasant, summer. He winced suddenly, turning to look at his right arm. An IV was carefully taped securely on his arm, the tube leading up to one bag hung on the headboard. Saline. No drugs.

Carefully he sat up on the bed, inhaling through his teeth. His body ached, but it wasn't as painful as he'd expected it to be. He looked around the room, confused, then back at the window. It was warm out. It couldn't be warm. Summer couldn't skip spring, and spring couldn't skip Winter. Winter… He winced, gasping suddenly, grabbing his head, leaning forward over the covers with a cry of pain.

 _"_ _WHAT IS YOUR NAME!?"_

 _"_ _Prussia!" He shrieked in pain as General Winter left more marks on his already bleeding chest._

 _"_ _WHAT. IS. YOUR. NAME!?"_

 _Prussia screamed again, arching his back, trying to get away from the knife between his shoulder blades as it dug into his skin slowly, "German Democratic Repub- PLEASE!"_

 _"_ _Say it until YOU believe it!" General Winter snarled._

 _"_ _GDR. GDR. GDR… please… please God… please, I'm GDR…. German Democratic Republic!" Tears of pain streamed down his cheeks as he fought to keep them back as General Winter's hand dug into the deep gash in his chest. He didn't want to beg. He hated being weak. He couldn't let General Winter think he was weak…_

Gil looked up, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. He looked around his room again, then pulled the covers up over his shoulders. It was warm…

The door creaked open.

Gil jumped, looking towards the sound, waiting for General Winter to walk back in. It was Hungary.

"Liz! Liz are you all right?" He sat up more, letting the covers fall off his arms, and reached towards her, motioning for her to come closer. She threw her arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her. She was crying? Hungary was crying?

"I thought he was going to…" she didn't continue and he didn't ask.

"I'm fine. I promise," he smiled at her, pulling away from the hug, "And you? Are you sure you're all right?" he motioned towards her stomach where ice from General Winter had torn through her.

"Gil… Gil, it's been almost a month…"

"What…? WHAT? How long have I been-"

"Almost as long as me," another voice called through the doorway.

Gil froze, looking into Russia's face. He said nothing.

"What's wrong, bruder?"

Gil sat up, turning instantly to his side.

"You're not here…" He shook his head, "there's no way you're here…"

"Ja. I'm here," Germany walked up to his brother, putting his hand on his shoulder, "They called me when you were hurt, and-"

"NEIN! You're not here!" Gil looked back at his arm. No drugs. He would need them. Why didn't his body need them? He looked back at Hungary. She looked shocked, worried to see him upset. Russia still stood in the doorway. He looked calm.

"This isn't real…" Gil whispered, "This can't be real…"

"It's real, Gil. I promise…"

"NEIN!" Gil slammed his fist into his head, trying to shake himself back into reality, looking back at his brother. Seeing his face hurt. He wanted to see him so badly it was painful. He lowered his hand from his head. Even if it wasn't real, he wasn't sure he wanted to wake up. Ludwig was smiling. He looked worried, but he was smiling. He looked down at his brother's hand on his shoulder. A single tear ran down his cheek.

"Luddy…"

"I'm right here."

"No… no, you're not…" Gil shook his head, looking back into his brother's soft blue eyes. His chest ached, his heard sobbing for the tears that he wouldn't let show. He reached forward towards his brother's face.

Air slipped between his fingers.

He rolled his hand into a fist and looked back at his arm. Dim, dusty light made it harder to see the tubes in his arm. Two tubes. He turned, looking back at the headboard. Two bags: saline, and heroin. He sighed, looking around the room towards the window. He was alone. Hungary wasn't there. Russia wasn't there. The light from the window was cold, and the snow-covered ground through the glass was almost blue in the late evening light.

Gil turned again, looking back to where he'd seen his brother.

"Did you like your dream?" A voice called from behind him.

"Liesel? What are you doing here?" Gil turned to the table and chairs. Bavaria was sitting on the table, "What am I talking about, you're not here either," he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah I am," she shrugged, "Luddy wasn't, but I am."

"Oh really? Prove it!" Prussia crossed his arms as much as he could without getting in the way of the IV and glared at her.

"Ok, fine," she stood, walked up to him, and slapped him. Hard.

Prussia smirked, his head snapping to the side with the force of her hand. He laughed a little, "Hallo, Liesel."

"Hallo, Gilbert Frederick." She grinned, crossing her arms.

"Middle name, really? What did I do to deserve that, huh?"

"Not believing me. Especially the last time! You thought you were hallucinating me, didn't you!?" she put her hands on her hips, shaking her head at him, her red curls bouncing.

"I was high!"

"Oh that's your excuse, is it?"

"It's kind of a good excuse…" Gil laughed, shaking his head.

She shrugged, "Still."

He rolled his eyes again, "Why are you here again?"

"To make sure you're ok."

"I'm awesome remember, more than just ok!" he turned away.

"Gil…" she put her hand on his shoulder gently, "You don't have to lie to me… I'm dead, remember?"

"Thanks for reminding me…"

"Aw, come on… you can't still be upset about that. You do pretty much hate my guts, don't you?"

Prussia smiled a little, "Not as much as you hate mine."

"You've got that right!"

He turned, looking up at her with a smile as she returned one. They didn't need to say it. They both knew.

Prussia frowned a little, looking down, "You… you gave me that dream…?"

She nodded, "Ja. I thought you'd want to see him…"

Prussia shook his head, "Nein… I don't… he has his life now, and I have mine… if I can call it that…"

Bavaria looked down at the bruises still clearly visible on his shoulders, the deep gashes on his back and chest were still healing, proved by bandages that needed to be changed.

"I thought it would help… I'm sorry…"

Prussia shrugged, "It doesn't matter. I'm never going to see him again…"

"Gil-"

"Don't. Please… please don't try and make me hope for that again… please…" he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

Bavaria said nothing, looking at his face, worried. She'd never seen him looks so broken. His eyes were dead, lost in a face that proved the use of the drugs she knew he didn't want.

"You look old, Gilbert…" she whispered honestly. It broke her heart.

He half-laughed, shaking his head, "Good, maybe people will stop thinking I'm Ludwig's little brother."

Bavaria put her hand on his shoulder again, "Are you sure you're ok? I came here to make sure you're ok-"

"You're about 40 years too late for that Liesel… way too late…"

"When General Winter-"

"He's gone now," Prussia cut her off again, shaking his head, "He's gone, and I'm healing, and it doesn't matter. I'll never see Ludwig again… I don't care. Eventually Russia will kill me… then… then I guess I'll see him…"

"I can see him… anytime I want really. He can't see me… not that he would know me if he did… but I can see him."

Prussia said nothing, closing his eyes. The ache in his chest refused to go away. He'd tried so hard to kill the hope. The desperate prayer that he would see his brother again. It just wouldn't die… "How is he?" he whispered finally, his voice so quiet he half hoped she wouldn't hear him.

"You would be proud of him."

Prussia swallowed the choke that rose into his throat, closing his eyes tighter to keep back the tears.

"He's very strong now. England, America, and France… they all forgave him. He spends a lot of time with them. And Italy of course."

"Is Pasta-Brain still teaching him to lighten up?"

"He's working on it."

Prussia smiled slightly, sighing deeply, opening his eyes, but keeping them down towards the covers, not really looking at it. He started to speak then paused. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to know.

"He talks about you a lot."

Prussia closed his eyes again, the stubborn catch returning to his throat. He almost wanted to ask if she was reading his mind, but he didn't care. Even if she could, it wouldn't matter. All he wanted to know was if Ludwig was all right and if he still cared about his older brother.

"You think about him a lot, don't you?" Bavaria whispered gently.

Prussia nodded, "Ja… every day…" he sighed again, looking up towards the window, "I don't pray very much anymore Liesel… but… but all I ever ask is that he's safe… that my bru-" he couldn't say it. The word caught on his tongue, too painful to let it escape, "That Ludwig is ok. That he's safe. That everyone forgives him for what happened… a long time ago now…"

"They have."

Prussia nodded again with another deep sigh, "Good…" he smiled faintly, "Nothing else matters."

"You going home matters."

"STOP IT!" He turned to her, shouting to hide the break in his voice, "Please…. please don't do that to me…" he raised the arm where the IV dripped the heroin into his blood, "Isn't this enough? Isn't this enough to live with…?"

"I know a stronger drug…"

"Oh? And what is it?" he shook his head. He didn't care.

"Hope."

"Go," He shook his head, sitting back against his headboard, not looking at her. "Go, get out. Leave me alone… please…"

"Gilbert!" she snapped indignantly, "Gilbert stop it! Your brother loves you. He barely stops talking about you. Every d*** chance he gets he brings up the wall to his government. He BEGS them to help him get you back every chance he gets! He loves you! He wants you back, you're his big brother, he cares about you! Stop being such an idiot! It's not over. You're not dead yet Gilbert Beilschmidt! Stop acting like it, or I'll-"

"You'll what?" Gil interrupted her, looking into her face, his eyes flashing, "Kill me?"

She sighed, shaking her head, "You are so… so…"

"Frustrating? Annoying? Obnoxious? I could go on…"

"All of the above yeah," she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest again, "Just… just don't give up."

"And why not?" he laughed, turning to the bags on his headboard. Carefully, he turned the valve of the bag of heroin, opening it enough to send drugs rushing through him. He smiled, relaxing a little, his mind blurring.

"Because I'm not giving up on you. So you can't give up either!"

"Oh is that how that works?" He rolled his eyes, laying back on his bed, enjoying the high that would last a few more minutes before being overtaken by a churning stomach and splitting headache. It was worth it.

"I don't care what you say, you still care about Luddy and you still want to get back. I know you still have hope Gilbert. You wouldn't have survived General Winter if you didn't…"

"You can believe that. I don't care," he didn't open his eyes. He wouldn't tell her she was right. He always hated it when Bavaria was right.

"Fine. I'll leave then… but I'm giving up. And you're not giving up either, understand!?" She snapped.

"Sure," Gil shrugged, rolling to his side, trying to relax into the rush that made everything else slip away. He barely noticed she was gone as he turned to the edge of the bed, grabbing for the bucket that had been left for him by one of the others in the house. The high was still worth it. He didn't care anymore.

…

Germany ran his hands through his hair, leaning down over the papers with a tired sigh.

"When's the last time you slept?"

Germany looked up at the dark haired man, "I don't remember…? A few days… maybe?" he shrugged, looking back down at the papers.

"That can't be healthy. Even for you," Cort shook his head.

Germany shrugged again, "I don't care… I want to get through these…"

Cort turned to the stack of papers again. Every order Gorbachov had given, that they knew of at least. Every change he'd made. The stacks were huge.

"Do you think he's going to change things enough for it to make a difference?" Cort asked, trying to be careful, trying not to hurt Ludwig with the question, "He's certainly nicer than some of Russia's previous bosses… well… not exactly his boss, but… sort of… I don't know as much as I should about Soviet Politics…"

"He might help, ja," Germany nodded, looking through the papers, "At least he got rid of Gil's old boss. I didn't like him. At. All." he flipped through more pages.

Cort nodded in agreement. He'd heard enough about the man from his sister to know he less than liked him. He'd imagined strangling him more than a few times. He turned to his own stack of pages. So many dead trees… so much paper… He sighed as the letters all started to blur together, all the words looking ridiculously long, even the ones that weren't supposed to be. He looked up at Ludwig again, about to ask for a break to eat when an aide knocked on the door.

Germany called for him to enter.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but, Cort, you have a phone call coming in… she said her name is… Eva? Eva Fischer?"

Cort stood instantly, grabbing his cane from the back of his chair and hurried towards the door.

"You're in a hurry…" Germany said, concerned.

Cort stopped, turning, "What?"

"Is everything all right."

"I certainly hope so!" Cort laughed a little.

"Why would she be calling you at…" Germany looked at his watch, "At almost midnight?"

Cort could feel heat in his ears suddenly, "Um… well… um… she's… we're kind of…"

Germany looked at him, still confused, "Is everything all right?"

Cort nodded with a laugh, grateful for Ludwig's obliviousness to his very red ears and cheeks.

"Then why would she… Oh…" Germany stopped, looking up at Cort again, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know…" Cort blushed awkwardly, "Cause it's work, and she's my girlfriend, and… I don't know… look, I have to go answer the phone…" he motioned for the door and escaped through it. Germany had finished another stack of papers when he returned.

Cort sat across from the country again, trying not to make eye contact, annoyed with his ears as they started on fire again. He turned to his own stack of papers and tried to keep busy.

"Well?" Germany asked finally."

"Well… what?" Cort avoided the question."

"Well, all I know is her name."

"That's enough for a background check, isn't it?" Cort joked.

"Already done."

"WHAT!?" Cort looked up at him, his face reddening more, "You didn't…"

Germany shook his head, trying to stifle laughter.

Cort whacked his arm with a stack of open letters, "Really?"

"Is she at your house? Do you need to go?" Germany asked after Cort disarmed himself of the letters.

Cort shook his head, "No, she has her own flat. She was just worried about me. I told her I'd be working late. I guess she called my house and since I didn't answer…"

"So she's a little overprotective?" Germany asked, almost concerned.

Cort smiled, shaking his head, "No. She just cares a lot. I think she worries I'll fall in the street and my leg, the fake one, will get run over by a car or something… and then I won't be able to get home, and die in the rain… or something like that. She worries about me… but it's all right," he smiled.

Germany nodded, "So… how long have you two been dating…?" he wasn't sure why he was asking. He usually didn't care. Italy cared about romance. He didn't. But this was Cort. And he cared about Cort.

Cort's ears turned red again, "Almost a year…"

Germany nodded, "That's good… right?"

Cort laughed, nodding back, "Ja. Ja, it's a good thing… actually…" He took a deep breath, slipping both hands into his jacket pockets, "Um…" he bit his lip, trying to find the words.

"Cort?"

"Well… I was just… um… you know you're sort of my older brother now…"

"Who's old enough to be your great-grandfather…"

"Don't bring that up... it's weird, you're my age…"

"You're 25, I'm almost 100… sort of…"

"Exactly. It's weird. But… um… I was wondering if you… would give me some advice?"

"I am the last person in the world you ever want to ask for romantic advice from. Literally. You're friend's with France, why don't you ask him?"

"Well… France isn't… family."

Germany's breath caught for a second. He stared at Cort, "What?"

"Yeah… I said you're basically my family… so…"

Germany smiled a little, nodding to Cort, "Well, like I said I'm useless at advice for romance, but-"

"It's not really advice… I just… I have to tell someone!" Cort tried to hide his smile, turning the tiny velvet box in his right pocket around in his hand.

"All right. I'm listening."

"I'm going to… I'm going to ask her to marry me," Cort closed his eyes as it said the words, opening one slightly to watch Germany's reaction.

Germany blinked, stunned, "You… you are? When?"

"Tomorrow. We're going to dinner… the best restaurant in town, black tie… that's a good idea right?"

"I mean it sounds fine, yes."

"Do you think she'll say yes?"

"She would be insane not to. You're a good kid, Cort."

"So… um…" Cort rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from Germany, "On the off chance she actually does say yes… best man? maybe…?" he looked back up into Germany's face.

"I… uh…" Germany had to force his mouth closed, "You want me to what."

"Well… like I said you're about the closest thing I have to a brother so… I mean that's only if she says yes to marrying a one-legged man with quite a history… so… would you?"

Germany smiled, "Ja. Ja, of course I will. When she says yes. Because she will."

"You haven't even met her!" Cort laughed.

"Well, I've met you. And unless she's an absolute idiot… she'll say yes. Like I said, I know basically nothing about romance. But I know that much."

Cort grinned, "Danke. That means a lot…"

Germany smiled back, "So…" he looked back at the stacks of papers, "Back to work?"

Cort nodded, "Sure. Why not, it's only one in the morning!"

* * *

A/N: YAY! New chapter up! I get excited about it too guys XD Anyway, Bavaria again. Because writing her and Gilbert being majorly sassy towards each other brings me much joy lol. And... CORT IS GETTING MARRIED! (and he's 25... what happened to the tiny boy!? All grow-ed up! XD) And Germany managed to be adorable and not just awkward when talking about romance. :) So, while there is still a LOT of pain going on for Gil... West is doing much better, and Cort is doing the best of all I think. :)

Thank you for reviewing! I really do appreciate it so much! It gives me more will to keep writing! and I really do love reading your reviews and replying to them... talking about theories and ideas for the story... etc. I love it. Thank you all so much for continuing to review! *hugs* Since it's almost Halloween... BAT COOKIES! (because Bats are one of the most adorable animals on the planet, and cookies are also wonderful!) and tea and cocoa! It's getting quite cold where I live, and I have been enjoying my hot tea with milk and honey. Yum! So I will share! :D

(And btw... Eva, when you read this, while the character isn't 'you'... yes, she's named after you. You've been so helpful through all of this story, and you've become a very dear friend. Thank you so much! So there's a little surprise for you! XD)


	79. Chapter 79: Star

Chapter 79

"I heard what you did for me."

Lithuania didn't turn, every muscle in his back tensing to the sound of the voice coming from the doorway. He nodded simply, keeping his eyes down on the plate of toasted bread and cheese, leaning on the counter. He shivered as he felt Russia walk up behind him. He looked up, straight ahead, trying to hide the fear in his breath.

"You didn't have to do that…"

Lithuania winced hard, shrinking away from Russia's hand on his shoulder, turning towards him, shivering, looking up into his face, shaking.

"Litva… what did he to do you?" Russia asked, deeply concerned, putting his hand on Lithuania's shoulder again.

Lithuania pulled away again, shaking.

Russia took his hand away from Lithuania, looking at the smaller country whose knuckles grew white as they gripped the counter.

"Litva?"

Lithuania hadn't taken his eyes off of Russia's face, "He's proud of you," he whispered finally, keeping his eyes on the other man's.

"What?" Russia asked, confused and still worried. Lithuania still hadn't stopped shaking.

"I said, your… General Winter said he's proud of you. He said I should tell you…"

"Proud of me? Toris, I don't understand…"

Lithuania wrapped his arms around himself, looking away, angry, "Yes. He said he was proud of you when he saw my back… he said he 'couldn't have done better' himself… He said it was 'beautiful work', and that he was proud of you…"

"He really said that?" Russia's eyes lit up, and a smile curled itself on his lips, "He really said he couldn't have done better?"

Lithuania nodded, looking away. He felt sick.

"He's proud of me?" Russia whispered, trying to believe it. Trying to believe the words Lithuania said. They couldn't be true. General Winter actually proud of him? He hadn't ever dared to hope for that. He looked back at Lithuania, upset to see him trembling, looking away.

"Toris?" he asked carefully.

Lithuania looked up at him.

Russia jumped. Lithuania's eyes were full of pain, fear, and anger. He wasn't used to seeing anger there. "Did he hurt you?" he asked carefully.

Lithuania nodded, "Yes. He did…"

"What did he-"

"Looks like you really did learn from the best."

"Toris what did he do?"

"Do you want ideas?"

Russia slapped Lithuania hard, grabbing the man's face and turning it towards his own, "Remember your place! I've let you spend too much time with GDR. Go back to your room, now. Stay there until I call for you. If I see you before that I'll add more scars, and Latvia will watch, da?"

Lithuania nodded carefully, turning and running up the stairs as soon as his face was free. He slammed his door closed behind him and pressed his back into it, sliding down to the ground. He pulled his knees to his chest, leaning down over them, trying to breathe normally, trying to stop shaking. He had to stop shaking. He covered his ears, trying to drown out Poland's screams in his mind. Screams of pain when he couldn't get to him. It was almost as bad as the sound of the knife.

…

Poland winced as he felt the wet cloth press against the bandages covering his chest. The gauze stuck to the wounds. He'd waited too long to call Hungary to help him. He bit his lip, closing his eyes tightly, turning his head to the side. He didn't want Hungary to see how much pain he was in.

"Am I hurting you Feliks?" Hungary put her hand on his shoulder gently.

He nodded, "It's ok."

Hungary brushed his hair out of his face kindly and turned back to the gauze. Carefully she started to lift it, dabbing on more water in places where it stuck to the healing skin.

Poland kept his face turned away, trying to think about something, anything, other than the mark in his chest.

 _Feliks hit the floor. He stayed down, barely glancing back at the door behind him as it closed. He brought his hand to his chest, pressing against the healing wound. It had been three days since that… man… had left him alone in a tiny locked room. Three days to give him time to heal enough for the others not to ask questions. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around his ribs able to feel all of them through a shirt that had fit four months before. He brought a hand to his face, still not moving from the ground. He felt sobs rise into his chest. He didn't want to stop them. He jumped, turning to look behind him as he heard a step, bracing himself for a kick to his back. He looked up at the older man, his breathing slowly in relief to see it wasn't a guard. He relaxed, sitting up on his arm, wincing in pain. He looked up at the man still, his eyes drifting to the piece of cloth tied to the man's clothing: a yellow star. He looked away, glancing down at the mark he wore himself. A different color, and a different shape. The only thing proving any kind of distinction among the prisoners, what color mark they wore. For everyone, it was a triangle in one of several colors, all except one, yellow. Yellow stars._

 _Feliks turned to look up at the old man again, surprised to see that he was still there. The man was skeletally thin and his face was worn and wrinkled with hard work and age, but his eyes glittered with something like hope. Feliks stared at him, surprised as the man knelt beside him, putting his hand on his shoulder gently._

 _"_ _Can you walk?"_

 _Feliks shook his head. The cell he'd been kept it was too small to stand in. His legs were numb. He couldn't move them, let alone walk. He turned away again._

 _"_ _What's your name?" The man asked gently._

 _"_ _I don't have one anymore…" Feliks whispered, looking at the numbers barely visible from under the edge of his sleeve._

 _"_ _Of course you do… don't forget it. Please. I am Mendel."_

 _Feliks turned back to look at him, "W-why are you talking to…me?"_

 _"_ _Is it wrong to talk to a man who needs help?"_

 _"_ _I thought…?"_

 _"_ _I don't care what you've done to end up here. Some have done terrible things. Some have done nothing except be what they are. Who am I to deny a man help for any of those things?"_

 _Feliks smiled a little, just a little._

 _"_ _Where do you sleep?"_

 _Feliks looked back towards the rest of the beds in the bunkhouse. Almost everyone was out working unless they were too old or sick. He pointed towards his bed weakly, "There."_

 _"_ _Wonderful, up you go then," the man carefully slid his arms under Felik's back and knees. He paused for a moment, gently lifting up the very weak man._

 _Feliks bit his lip. He could feel the man's arms shaking under him, and could hear his breath catching with exhaustion._

 _"_ _Please, you don't have to…"_

 _"_ _Oh, shush. Let me do one more good thing, if I may?" The man smiled sadly, laying Feliks down in his bed, carefully pulling the covers over him, "There. Now you don't have to sleep on the floor."_

 _"_ _This isn't much better…" Feliks smiled, half trying to make a joke._

 _Mendal smiled a little again, "Ah, but even a little better is better than the floor?"_

 _Feliks nodded, "Tak (yes)," he smiled back, "I… I'm Feliks."_

 _"_ _I'm glad to meet you Feliks. Shalom."_

 _Feliks smiled, "Shalom."_

 _"_ _Do you know what that word means?" The man asked kindly, sitting on the edge of the bed._

 _Feliks shook his head. He knew, but he wanted to hear the man say it. His voice was frail, but somehow comforting. He pressed into his chest again, trying to releave the pain._

 _"_ _It means 'deep peace'. And so that is what we wish upon those we meet, deep peace…" Mendal whispered, the look in his eyes far away for a moment, and glossy with tears._

 _"_ _Mendal…" Feliks whispered, "You… you can't work… can you?"_

 _Mendal sighed deeply, "No. No not anymore… when I came here, I was stronger than most of the young men… but, eh, life changes… doesn't it?"_

 _"_ _How can you be so… positive? How can you say it's nothing… Mendal they'll… they'll…"_

 _"_ _It's because I know the secrets, little one. I'm old enough I think I can call you that?"_

 _Feliks just smiled._

 _"_ _I know the secret, that's how I can still be happy."_

 _"_ _Happy? Here? Happy?"_

 _"_ _Yes. Very happy."_

 _"_ _But it's wrong! It's wrong and I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"_

 _Mendal clicked his tongue sadly, "Oh, there's nothing for you to be sorry for! You're stuck here too after all."_

 _Feliks said nothing, looking up into the man's face, confused._

 _"_ _I am happy," the man continued, "Because I know that love is stronger than hate, than fear, than pain… than anything else in this world. And that, is a happy thought indeed."_

 _"_ _Hate is winning…"_

 _The man shook his head, "No. Hate doesn't get to win. Not in the end. I believe that. And it keeps the smile on my face," he grinned, "See? Much better than tears, isn't it?" He reached down, gently wiping the tears from Felik's cheeks._

 _Feliks nodded, smiling softly. He couldn't keep the tears back. His chest ached, but not from the wound._

 _"_ _I should let you rest," Mendal smiled, slowly pressing against the wood of the bunk to help him stand._

 _"_ _Wait…" Feliks stopped him, "Please… keep talking? Tell me about yourself? Tell me… something? I don't know any Jewish stories… maybe…?"_

 _Mendal smiled knowingly, "Now there you don't have to ask an old man for stories just because you pity him…"_

 _"_ _No. Please… I…" Feliks looked down at his shirt, "They hurt me… I… a story might keep my mind off… pain?"_

 _The man nodded, putting his hand on the little country's shoulder, "All right, little one. If you think it would help."_

 _Feliks nodded with a soft smile. He watched the man's face as he listened. The way it lit up as he told stories of his childhood brought a choke back into his throat. He let the tears fall, glad Mendal was too wrapped up in his tale to notice them on his cheeks._

 _Feliks looked out the thin windows at the top of the barracks, the faintest hint of light starting to break the dark sky, the starts barely visible. He looked up into Mendal's face as the man stopped speaking finally._

 _"_ _Ah, well… I've talked all night it seems. I hope I didn't bore you, little one?"_

 _Feliks shook his head, "Not at all."_

 _"_ _Good," Mendal smiled again, a warm, happy smile that Feliks determined to never forget, "I'll see you in the morning for Appell (roll call) then?"_

 _Feliks nodded slowly, trying to smile, trying to bite back the tears. He didn't want to cry. He wanted to smile at him. He wanted so badly to smile…_

 _"_ _Mendal…?" he whispered?_

 _"_ _Yes, little one?"_

 _"_ _dzięki…(thanks)"_

 _Mendal smiled._

"Feliks?" Hungary's voice drifted into his mind.

He turned to look back at her but didn't speak, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.

"I'm finished…" she motioned towards the new gauze she'd taped over the wound with a gentle smile, "Are you all right?" she whispered, noticing the tears on his face.

"Yeah. Just… memories."

"Good memories I hope…?"

Poland nodded slowly, a faint smile on his lips, "Tak… tak, good memories…"

Hungary touched his face gently, "If you need me to stay here…"

Poland shook his head, "No. I'll be all right… I just… I like, need some time… if that's ok?"

Hungary nodded with a soft smile, "Of course."

"Eta… will you make sure Liet is ok again? After what General Winter did to us… I… I'm worried about him…"

Hungary nodded, biting her lip. She was worried too. "I'll check on him."

Poland nodded with a smile.

…

Lithuania jumped, hearing a knock at his door, "Da?" he asked, hoping it was Russia.

"It's Hungary…"

"I'm fine. Russia asked me to stay in here…"

"Ordered, actually."

Hungary jumped, turning to look at Russia standing right behind her, "Hey, let him out! Come on…"

"Get out of my way, Hungary."

Hungary looked up into the violet eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't scared of him, "Don't. Hurt. Him."

"Get. Out. Of my. Way."

Hungary stepped to the side but didn't leave, watching Russia. She wasn't sure why. She didn't think she could stop him if he used the pipe.

Lithuania took a step back as Russia entered his room, leaving the door open behind him. He looked into Russia's face for a moment, then turned around and knelt, moving his hair out of Russia's way. He braced himself, waiting for the pipe to strike his back.

Silence.

Lithuania held his breath, biting his lip, then forcing himself to stop so he wouldn't bite through it.

"Litva…" Russia's voice was almost gentle.

Lithuania didn't move except for the trembling he couldn't stop.

"Litva, stand up."

Lithuania looked up, moving even less, trying to breathe normally.

"Stand. Up."

Lithuania obeyed, turning to look at Russia, holding out his wrist to be led downstairs. He trembled more, turning his eyes to the floor. He felt Russia's hands close around his.

"Litva, I'm not going to hurt you."

Lithuania looked up at him, shocked, slowly pulling his hand away, surprised as Russia let him.

"You protected me from my father. You didn't have to do that. Consider sparing you my forgiveness for your actions earlier. Don't do it again, da?"

Lithuania nodded slowly. He wasn't sure he trusted it. Russia, being kind? While he was sober? He didn't think he could believe that…

"One more thing. To show my thanks," Russia smiled, "My sister can stay with you tonight."

Lithuania would have smiled if shock hadn't overtaken his expression, "You… really?"

"Da," Russia smiled an almost normal smile, "I told you, I need to thank you. You did help me."

Lithuania nodded again, not sure what to say.

"I'll send Bela up to see you then." Russia turned and walked out of the room without another word.

Hungary stepped through the doorway and up to Lithuania, who hadn't moved, "Are you all right?"

Lithuania shook his head, "I don't think so…"

Hungary looked at him quizzically.

"Russia… Ivan… was just nice to me?" he looked up at her, "I don't… know… how I'm supposed to react to that…?"

Hungary watched Russia disappear down the stairs through the open door, "I think I have some ideas…"

* * *

A/N: It's late and I am quite tired... so short authors notes! This chapter was really sad... though the scene with Mendal was actually quite sweet... contextually... contextually it hurts. It hurts a lot. As always, I intend to portray this incredibly difficult subject with the utmost respect. I hope I have done so. I certainly made myself cry.

Russia being nice... hmm... there are historical reasons for this. But I won't spoil them here. I will elaborate on them later in-story! YAY! :D

Thank you for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter! I can't wait to read more of your thoughts on this story! YAY YAY YAY! So... I made WAY too many mashed potatoes today for dinner, so I will share with all of you! Also candy. Because candy. It needs to explination. And hot cocoa. And considering this chapter... also hugs.


	80. Chapter 80: Break

Chapter 80

"Bela!" Lithuania grinned, holding his arms out to her as she stepped up to the doorway. He lowered them slowly, trying to look at her face as she was silhouetted against the light from the hallway. He didn't move, just looking at her. "Natashka, what's wrong?" he could hear her breath shaking.

"I…" she looked up at him, into his eyes. It killed her. They were so beautiful, so deeply green and so incredibly caring. She tried to force down the choke in her throat. She couldn't cry. She couldn't do what she had to if she cried.

"Natya, please…" he took a step closer to her, reaching for her again, "Tell me what's-"

"Don't come any closer," she said, forcing as much ice into her voice as she could find.

Lithuania stopped, "Natya?"

Belarus held her breath for a moment, praying it wouldn't betray her. She looked up into his face again, forcing herself to keep her eyes fixed on his. She took deep, shaking breath, and shook her head, "My brother was right…" she whispered, not letting her eyes leave his.

"What?" Lithuania asked, confused. Dread sank into his chest, gripping, twisting in his stomach. He didn't look away from her.

"He was right, you're my weakness. Because of you, I'm not strong enough. He was right. Every time he hurt you he was right. You deserved it. You're weak. I know what's wrong with me, Torsh-Toris. I know what's wrong: you. I don't need you anymore…"

"W-…" he fought the instant tears, the pain in his chest almost unbearable, "No. I don't believe you."

Belarus kept her eyes on his still, her heart twisting in pain as she saw tears well up in his eyes, "I hate you," she turned, walking towards the stairs.

"Stop…" he ran after her, catching her wrist, turning her and looking into her face, "You can't mean that… please… who told you to say this? Did someone threaten you? Bela, please…"

"Let go of me," she pulled her hand away, "No one's forcing me to say anything." She shook her head, not daring to look up at his face. She couldn't look at his eyes. She couldn't watch him break. It was already killing her to hurt him.

"Bela… please, have I done something, have I-"

"Nyet!" she snapped, looking up at him again, "You're just weak. I don't love you anymore. I hate you. I hate everything you are. My brother has tried for so long to change you, to make you stronger, and you just can't do it! You're just weak and you always will be! What's wrong with you? You're pathetic… You're pathetic and I hate you!" She slapped him as hard as she could. She took a step back, looking away as she watched his world crumble on his face. He closed his eyes, tears slipping down his bright red cheek. She looked away. She couldn't watch him cry. She heard a short, choked sob escape his throat as he whispered.

"I will never stop loving you…"

"You should," she snapped, turning and walking away to hide the tears. He couldn't see them. He couldn't trust her.

Lithuania watched her leave, running back into his own room and slamming the door, locking it behind him. He looked back at the dark wood. She couldn't have meant it. She couldn't have. He didn't believe it… his cheek stung. She wouldn't do that. She would never hurt him. She wouldn't say that… he fell to his knees, leaning against the door. She couldn't mean it…

…

Belarus slammed her door behind her, kneeling in front of it instantly, leaning against it as sobs overtook her. She let them, covering her face, crying until she had no more tears, and then sobbing, sobbing until her lungs burned and her chest ached, and until her throat was raw and her lips were chapped. She didn't care. She pressed her hand to her chest as if it could relieve the pain. She wanted nothing more than to run to him and beg his forgiveness, to feel his arms around her, to kiss his scars and tell him she loved him. She loved him, but she was dangerous. He couldn't love her. She couldn't hold him there. He would stay as long as she stayed. She couldn't let him stay. She couldn't be the only reason he stayed. She didn't care if it killed her, she wouldn't let him stay for her. For every night alone, for every day without a single look from him, it was worth it. It was worth it if it would make him fight her brother. He had to leave Russia. He had to, and she wouldn't hold him back anymore. His freedom was worth the price, she loved him too much to not let him go.

 _I love you, my Torshka… I will never stop loving you…_

She looked up, hearing a knock at her door. Her brother. She stayed on her knees, grabbing onto his coat and looking up at him.

"Please, please forgive me, big brother… I'm sorry I liked Lithuania! I'm sorry I forgot that I love you. My loyalty is only to you now, forever, I promise, I promise!"

Russia looked down at her, pulling away, staring down at her, "You left Mishka…?"

"He didn't understand! He's too weak! Not like you, you're strong! I want to keep being strong like you, big brother!" she nodded, grinning up at him.

Russia smiled, his sickening childish smile, "That's wonderful, Bela. I'm glad you want to be stronger!"

"Me too!" she smiled back, nodding quickly.

Russia was impressed. "I'm proud of you, little sister," he said with a smile.

She grinned, looking up at him and forcing the tears to stay back. She had to fool everyone, even herself.

…

"Gil?"

Prussia looked up towards the door and smiled, "Latvia!" he motioned the boy closer, standing from his desk and wrapping the boy in a hug, kneeling to reach him, "Why are you here?"

"I miss miss miss…miss you…" Latvia looked down, away from Gil.

"Yeah? Well, I missed you too," Gil smiled, lifting the boy's chin to look at him, "What's bothering you?"

"N-N-Nothing…" Latvia bit his lip.

"Come on… what's going on?" Gil smiled still, trying to sound encouraging. He was worried. Russia hadn't hurt him, had he?

"Russia…" Latvia tried to collect his thoughts, trying to think of the right words, "R-Russia legalized my my my my old flag…" Latvia wrapped his arms around himself, not looking up at Gil.

"What?" Prussia whispered, confused, "He let you what?"

"He l-l-l-legalized my old flag… it's not official… but but but it's legal again…" He looked up into Gil's face, "Gil… Gil I think… I think maybe it's all going to end… it it it it scares me… but… but I'm… Gil, maybe there's there's there's hope!" his blue eyes sparkled.

GDR stood, "Latvia… please… don't talk like that. Russia is the reason we're all alive. Loyalty is-"

"Hungary's going to to… to let your people through…"

Prussia froze, "What?"

Latvia smiled, "She's going to let your your your people through. She's opening the b-borders to West Germany from her side… she's going to let let let let them go through…"

Prussia took off through his door, running to find Hungary. He found her in her room, standing beside her side table, looking at a map. He grabbed her around the waist, picking her up and spinning her around, then wrapping her in a hug.

"Well, I see I made someone happy!" She giggled, looking up at him.

"if you hadn't been married to Roderich for so many years, I think I'd kiss you right now!"

"Don't even think about it, Beilschmidt. I'd punch you in the face and you know it!" she laughed, pulling herself free from the hug.

"True…" he smirked, "but Liz… are you really… are you really going to let my people through?"

"I'm going to try. I don't know how many I'll be able to help, but I'm sure going to try," she beamed, looking up at him, "We're going to end this, Gil. We're going to win. I promise we're going to win!"

"I don't know how to thank you…"

"Fight. Russia. Keep fighting and don't give up!"

…

Latvia brought the cold cloth to Prussia's forehead again, laying it down gently, "D-d-d-does does does it hurt?" he bit his lip.

Prussia nodded, looking up at Latvia, taking a deep shaking breath, "It doesn't matter. It's worth it…"

"It's been s-s-six days…" Latvia said.

"Seven, actually," Gil winced again, trying to sit up a little, while keeping the cloth on his head. It took more effort than he would admit to. He froze suddenly, seeing Russia standing in the doorway.

"So," Russia sighed, "You want your people to leave? Don't you see what it's doing to you?"

"I. Don't. Care." Prussia smiled, "They're getting away from you!" He shrank back against the headboard without thinking as he saw Russia step closer. He mentally kicked himself for it, trying not to be afraid. It didn't work.

Russia pushed Latvia out of the way, slamming the boy to the ground, and turned to Gil.

"HEY!" Prussia threw off the covers, forcing himself to stand, almost collapsing for a moment, steadying himself on the headboard, "Don't touch him!"

"Really, GDR? You would try this again? Haven't you learned after all these years?" he grabbed the smaller country's neck, lifting him off the ground.

Gil kicked, grabbing at Russia's hand on his neck.

"Do you have any idea how easy you are to control?" Russia snapped, dropping him to the ground next to Latvia, "All I have to do is threaten to take away those drugs-"

"Please!" Gil turned to him instantly, looking up into his face, his eyes begging, "Please don't-"

"See? Perfect… so easy to control…"

Gil kept his head down. He didn't want to give Russia the satisfaction of seeing the defeat on his face.

Russia looked down at his satellite, giving him a hard kick in the stomach, satisfied to hear a gasp escape his lips, "What's your name?"

 _No… no please no I can't play this game… please…_

Latvia stood, looking up at Russia and taking a backward step towards the door.

"Stay, Latvia," Russia ordered, "You should see this too. I think you and the others have been thinking far too much about rebellion. What would they say if you go back to them covered in GDR's blood? Do you think it would help?"

Latvia shivered, hiding his hands behind his back, trying to hide how much they were shaking, "Y-y-y-yes M-M-Mr. R-Russia…" he didn't look up at him.

Gil looked up at Russia, following his arm down to his hand, and the metal pipe it held. He shivered, imaging it hitting his back over and over until his ribs broke. He wasn't sure he could take it again.

"What. Is. Your. Name?" Russia asked again.

"German Democratic Republic, GDR…" he whispered almost without thinking, not looking at anything, just staring straight ahead. Nothing mattered. Nothing except giving the right answers, avoiding that pipe.

"And what are you?"

"A Soviet state…"

"And who do you belong to?"

"The Soviet Union… Russia… you," he closed his eyes, trying not to think about everything those words meant.

"And what is the purpose of the wall?"

"To protect me…"

"And those who try to cross it? What do they deserve?"

"Death…"

"And your brother?"

"America's Dog…" his voice broke.

"And you are?"

Gil shook his head, "Your bird…"

"And what," Russia kicked Gil's right arm away from his body pinning it to the ground with his boot, "Do I do to birds who won't stay in their cage?"

Gil looked up at him, terrified, "Russia please, please…" he begged.

"What do you think, Latvia?" Russia smiled, turning to the boy.

Latvia's eyes were fixed on Russia's boot. He shook his head, "Don't…" he brought both hands to his face, shaking his head faster, "Russia please don't hurt him!" He looked up into the violet eyes, his own bright blues shimmering with tears, "Please…"

"Would you rather I break yours?" Russia grabbed Latvia's arm, pulling the boy off the ground.

"NO!" Gil grabbed Russia's arm with his left hand, straining up to try and pull it away from Latvia, "No please, please, I'd rather you break mine… please…"

Russia laughed, "Listen to you both! You're both so adorable, trying to protect each other!" he kicked Gil's face back, releasing the white-haired nation's arm in the process.

Gil didn't move, trying to collect his thoughts, his head spinning. Russia's boot slammed next to his face, making him jump.

"Are you loyal to me, GDR?"

Gil nodded slowly, keeping his eyes closed. He could barely think, the world blurry around him from the force of Russia's boot.

"Prove it," Russia smiled.

Gil looked up at the giant country towering above him, still holding Latvia by the arm as the boy squirmed with tears spilling over his cheeks. He looked back at Russia's boot in front of his face.

"Who do you belong to, GDR?" Russia asked slowly, the smile still on his face.

Gil leaned forward, letting his lips touch leather, "You…" he whispered, closing his eyes, looking away. He heard bone snap and a scream of pain as Latvia was dropped next to him on the ground. Russia left the room without a word.

Gil turned to Latvia, reaching for his arm, "Sh… sh, please… please let me help…"

Latvia sobbed, looking away from his arm, horrified. He tried to stop crying, tried to be tough.

"I'll get Estonia…" Gil bit his lip, looking into Latvia's face. "I'm so sorry…" He stood carefully, his ribs aching, and stepped towards the door.

"Just… D-d-d-don't… don't give up…?"

Gil didn't have an answer. He forced a smile and threw open his door, half dragging himself to Estonia's room.

* * *

A/N: A very "Split" chapter here. The beginning with Liet and Bela taking place a bit earlier than the second part... *sighs* poor all of them. Russia may be weaker than he was, but that still leaves him extremely powerful. Poor little Latvia... but everyone is starting to fight back, and fight back quite a bit. Russia is quickly loosing control (and I'm not mad about it!)

Thank you to all the reviewers! I really do love reading your reviews! Thank you thank you thank you! We are fast aproacking 500 reviews, and I fully intend to do something special for the 500th reviewer! Exciting things! (you must be signed-in to count, as otherwise I can't PM you, I'm so sorry! :( ) but even if you aren't #500, know I love you ALL. And THANK YOU! Cookies and hugs and candy for all! (and still more leftover mashed potatoes XD)


	81. Chapter 81: Smiles

Chapter 81

"Are you ready?"

"Yeeeees…?" Cort exhaled quickly, pushing his hair back, looking into the mirror.

"You'll be fine," Germany tried to sound reassuring, putting his hand on Cort's shoulder.

"How would you know?"

Germany shrugged.

"Very comforting…" Cort turned to the mirror again, "Do I look ok?"

"Ja, you look fine."

"Good…" Cort gave a quick exhale, trying to mentally prepare himself. "This… this is fine. Everything will be fine. Everything will be absolutely fine."

"What has you so nervous?" Germany picked up the giant pin and flowers for the lapel of Cort's jacket.

"Well… I guess…" he sighed, "I know it's only the civil wedding today, but… well, she has her witness _and_ her parents…"

"Ah," Germany replied simply. He wasn't sure what to say. Emotions weren't his strong suit, he was better with paperwork and cleaning.

"Are you nervous?" Cort asked, trying to think about something other than the knot in his stomach.

"A little?" Germany smiled, "All I have to do is sign papers here. Ask again at the church wedding, and…" he laughed a little, "How many people will there be again?"

"Over a hundred," Cort winced.

"Great," Germany said sarcastically, finishing stabbing the pin through the wrapped ends of the flowers, "There, now you look ready."

Cort turned to the mirror again, "Yeah…" he sighed, smiling a little suddenly, "I… I'm getting married…"

…

"Liz? How are you holding up?" Gil whispered, brushing her sweat-soaked hair back from her face. He glanced up at Estonia, setting his jaw, trying to resist the voice in the back of his mind telling him to run to Russia and make him pay for this. He looked back at Hungary, keeping his right hand firmly clasped around hers.

"Is there anything more I can do?" he asked Estonia, not looking up at him.

"No," Estonia sighed, reaching back to the nightstand to grab more supplies.

Hungary winced hard as Estonia dabbed a cotton ball soaked in cold liquid on the wounds on her back. It stung. She gripped Gil's hand tighter, looking up at him, "I'm… I'm ok…"

"This is my fault…" Gil shook his head, "I'm so sorry, Liz-"

"Stop it. This isn't your fault, I was the one who let your people go through my border. This has nothing to do with… you…" She buried her face in the pillow as Estonia dug into one of the deeper marks. She grit her teeth, refusing to make any sound. She knew Gil could tell she was in pain anyway, she didn't have to rub it in.

"Liz…"

"I'm fine," she mumbled through the pillow, not wanting to look up again. She didn't want anyone to see her face and the pain she knew would be visible on it.

"Sorry," Estonia sighed again, "I have to do this… I can try and give you something-?"

Hungary shook her head, "No, I'm fine."

"Liz, stop being stubborn…" Gil almost snapped.

"When you stop blaming yourself for this, I'll stop being stubborn."

"That's not fair…"

"Yes it is…" she tried to hide the pain in her voice, failing miserably.

Gil winced as Estonia pulled out a needle and thread, "Liz, you're going to take something, got it?"

She moved her head from the pillow, glaring up at him, "Oh am I, Gilbert?"

"Ja. Because he has to stitch that one, and I'm not letting you just take it."

"Scared I'll be tougher than you about it?"

"Oh, please," Gil rolled his eyes.

"Well? Say it's not your fault."

Gil looked up at Estonia, hoping he would protest her ultimatum.

Estonia just shrugged, internally siding with Hungary.

Gil growled, rolling his eyes again, "Fine. Fine, it's not my fault."

"Good!" Hungary smirked, turning to look at Estonia, "I would _really_ like some of those painkillers now…"

Estonia nodded, reaching for them.

…

 _CRASH_

Cort winced as another plate shattered on the ground. He looked over at Eva, whose eyes sparkled as she laughed. He couldn't look away. She was perfect, completely perfect. He smiled as her eyes met his. She leaned her head on his shoulder and he let his cheek rest against her hair. He kissed the top of her head, bringing his arm around her shoulders.

"Hi," he whispered, the sound of another smashing plate almost hiding the sound.

She looked up at him, keeping her head on his shoulder, "Hi."

He kept his eyes on hers, smiling softly.

"What?" She asked, laughing.

"What, what?" Cort smirked.

"You're looking at me funny…" she giggled, looking up into his eyes.

"I think I like you," he smiled.

"Really?" she brought her hand to her mouth in pretended shock, her eyes sparkling, "We should get married then!"

"That's a fantastic idea!" Cort grinned, barely noticing another plate smashing, "When?"

"Tomorrow?" she laughed.

"That sounds like a fantastic idea!" Cort smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. He bit his lip, excited. The church wedding was the next day, and he was more than a little nervous. He sighed, his eyes filling with tears.

"What's wrong, love?" Eva reached up to touch his face gently.

"It's just… tomorrow… I'm sorry I won't be able to really dance with you…" he swallowed back the choke in his voice, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

"Shh…" she shook her head, leaning up to kiss the tear off his cheek, "I already told you, I don't need a dance. Just you…" she looked into his eyes with a tender smile.

He reached up to touch her cheek, trying to hold the tears back. He leaned in closer, bringing his lips towards hers.

"Hey lovebirds!"

Cort turned to look at Eva's brother, slightly annoyed at the interruption, "Ja?" he tried to sound lighthearted.

"I think you two have a mess to clean up now?" the young man laughed, raising his glass of beer.

Cort rolled his eyes, standing and reaching for Eva's hand. He helped her to her feet and laughed as brooms were shoved in both of their hands.

…

Gil looked up at the ceiling of his room, trying to sleep. He couldn't sleep. His room was almost completely dark, lit only by a faint stream of moonlight peeking out from behind the curtains. He looked towards it, throwing the covers off his legs. He sighed, sitting up and letting his boot-clad feet hit the floor. He didn't move for a moment, leaning his elbows on his knees with his head in his hands for a moment. The cold night air hit his back sending a shiver down his spine. He looked back over his shoulder towards the full-length mirror standing near his dresser. Even in the faint moonlight, he could see every one of his ribs through his skin. His eyes rested on the reflection of the scar on his right shoulder blade. One of the first marks left on him in hell. Slowly, he brought his left hand to it, tracing it gently. He'd grown so used to it, it barely felt wrong anymore.

He sighed, turning away from the mirror and standing slowly. He looked at the windows again, walking to them and throwing open the heavy navy curtains. He shivered, the cold air forcing its way through the glass into his chest. He reached up, laying his hand on the glass. It was freezing, condensing around his hand in a translucent outline. He pulled his hand away, looking out his window to the giant blanket of snow covering everything in sight. Tiny puffs of clumped-together snowflakes drifted to the ground, the wind blowing them just barely off a straight course.

Gil leaned against the windowsill, watching the snow fall to the ground. It was strangely beautiful, but he just wanted spring. He wanted it to be warm again, to watch white flowers spring up from the ground, to hear the sound of horses hoofs in the mud, to feel the crisp spring air biting through his uniform. Spring meant hope, and he was desperately trying to hold onto it. He closed his eyes with a deep sigh, looking back towards his bed, then turning to the window again.

 _"_ _Is something bothering you, Gil?"_

 _Prussia jumped, his thoughts interrupted suddenly. He turned around, shaking his head, "No, I'm fine. Just thinking."_

 _Frederich shrugged, turning back to his books._

 _"_ _How's it going?" Prussia stepped away from the window, walking towards the young teen, leaning against the desk, peeking over his shoulder._

 _"_ _It's all starting to look the same. My mind quits."_

 _"_ _Oh, come on, it's not that bad!" Prussia laughed, looking down at the book more closely, "It's just a cavalry strategy. It's not that complicated!"_

 _"_ _Says the 500-year-old. I'm 15, you're supposed to tell me 'it's ok, I know it's difficult, but you'll get it'!"_

 _Prussia laughed again, "Ok…" he cleared his throat, changing his voice to his best Austria impression, hoping to sound fake and stuck-up, "'It's ok, I know it's difficult, but you'll get it!'"_

 _Frederich made a gagging noise, "Never do that again. You sound like… like…"_

 _"_ _Like Roderich?" Prussia smirked._

 _Frederich laughed a little, nodding, "Yeah."_

 _"_ _Ok, so no more games, seriously, it's not difficult. What's confusing?"_

 _"_ _This," Frederich pointed, "This makes NO sense…" he leaned his arm on the desk, burring his face in it._

 _Prussia looked down at the book, reaching for it and pulling it out from under Frederich's head. He frowned, confused, trying to understand what the author intended to convey._

 _"_ _Well," he said finally, "I figured out why it doesn't make sense…"_

 _"_ _You did?" Frederich looked up at Prussia, his expression somewhere between excitement and dread._

 _"_ _Yup. The book is wrong," Prussia shook his head, "They've got this all wrong…" he clicked his tongue, setting the book back down on the desk and picking up a quill, "Here, I'll show you…" he reached for a piece of paper and started to sketch out the details, making sure Frederich was paying attention._

Gil sighed deeply with a very faint smile, turning away from the window and going back to his bed. He climbed back in, still not bothering to take off his boots, and pulled the covers up to his chin, over his shoulder, rolling to his side. He just wanted to sleep.

…

Cort grinned, wrapping his arms around Eva's waist, pulling her into a kiss. Cheers erupted from the crowd. He kissed her again, taking her hand. He took a deep breath as the music started to play. He looked at her as she stood by his side. She was glowing, and her eyes sparkled with excitement and tears of joy. He offered her his arm, smiling as he felt her hands close around it. He turned to look at Germany.

Germany smiled, placing the cane in Cort's outstretched hand. He nodded to him encouragingly.

Cort looked back at Eva immediately, taking the first step with her as the soft piano celebrated with the cheering crowd. They made it down the aisle and to the back of the church. The turned, standing to greet the guests as they walked out on their way to the reception dinner. He touched her face, smiling and kissing her again, deeper this time with no one watching.

She giggled, pulling away, "Hey…" she laughed, her cheeks bright red, "You can't do that yet…" she smiled.

"Oh?" he kissed her cheeks.

She laughed again, nodding, trying to regain composure as the doors opened again as the guests were dismissed.

Cort jumped as Eva's father wrapped him into a firm embrace. He hugged back with one hand, steadying himself on his cane with the other. He smiled, relieved.

"You take good care of my baby girl, ok?" the man smiled, his eyes filling up with tears and he put both of his hands on Cort's shoulders, looking down at Eva, who was struggling not to cry on her mother's shoulder as the two hugged.

Cort nodded, "With my life."

"Good, good," the man pat his shoulders, smiling and turning to his daughter.

Cort met all of Eva's friends and family politely smiling and thanking them for their congratulations. Person after person hugged them both, shaking their hands, telling them in every way possible how happy they were to see them married, giving them little pieces of advice, wishing them well… He glanced back at Eva between people. She rested her hand on his over the cane, squeezing his hand gently, looking up at him. He smiled at her, turning back to the line of people, grinning suddenly as he saw a familiar face.

"Francis!" Cort threw his arms around his friend's shoulders, receiving an equally strong hug in return. He pulled away, looking into France's face, "Are you crying?"

"I always cry at weddings, you should have expected that!" France laughed, brushing the tears away, "Look at you! All grown up, married now… and to such a beautiful girl!" He reached for her hand, kissing it.

Eva blushed, looking up at Cort.

Cort laughed a little, shaking his head, smiling France.

"I wish you two all the happiness in the world," France smiled at them both, brushing more tears away. He looked into Cort's face, "Oh, and I brought a surprise for you."

"Oh?" Cort asked with a raised eyebrow, looking next to France suddenly, "Gisela!" he grabbed her, holding her tightly, "I didn't think you were coming!"

Gisela laughed, wrapping her arms around Cort's shoulders, "And miss my baby brother's wedding? Never," she kissed his cheek, "Now, introduce me to my sister?" She pulled away from the hug.

"Of course!" Cort grinned turning to Eva, "Eva, this is my sister, Gisela. Gisela, this is Eva… my wife," he smiled. He didn't care if he was pointing out the obvious. He liked saying it. It felt strange on his tongue. He didn't want to get used to it. He wanted it to always be just as exciting to say as it was right at that moment.

Gisela hugged Eva, smiling, "Take good care of my brother, hmm?" she smiled.

"Absolutely. He's the sweetest, how could I not?"

Gisela smiled up at Cort, "Yeah, he is."

Cort shook his head, laughing, "Oh stop it you two, you're going to embarrass me!"

Gisela laughed, "Oh, you haven't seen embarrassing yet! I can't wait to tell her all the stories of when you were little…"

"Oh no…" Cort brought his hand to his face, "Oh no, oh no…" he laughed.

"I can't wait to hear them!" Eva elbowed Cort's arm with a laugh.

"Oh!" Gisela shook her head, "How could I forget! Cort, this is Jean," she motioned towards a tall dark-haired man standing near France, "My…fiancé…"

"What?" Cort's face lit up, "You're what?"

Gisela grinned, taking Jean's arm, "Yup. You're not the only one getting married.

"Gisela that's wonderful! Very nice to meet you, Jean!" Cort smiled at him.

Jean nodded with a smile, "Thank you. And you. I'm sorry, my German is not very good yet."

"Oh, don't worry, that's just fine," Cort smiled. He looked back at Gisela, "I'm so glad you're happy."

"I've never been happier, truly."

Cort smiled.

"Now, I'm holding up the line enough, we'll see you at the reception!"

Cort nodded, continuing to shake hands with the next twenty-some people before finally seeing Germany standing with Italy in the very back of the line. When they finally got to him, he didn't even have time to say hello before Italy attacked him with a hug. He laughed, hugging back and smiling at Germany.

"You're married! You're married and it's wonderful!" Italy grinned, almost jumping up and down with excitement. He threw his arms around Eva too, starting to chat up a storm with her.

Cort turned to Germany, smiling as the country put a hand on his shoulder firmly. Germany wasn't going to hug him, he hadn't expected him to. "Well?"

"I'm so proud of you…" Germany smiled, "So proud."

Cort smiled, "Danke."

"And you're happy?"

Cort looked back at Eva as she laughed while talking to Italy. She was so beautiful, "So happy…"

"Good. You deserve it," Germany nodded.

Cort only smiled.

…

"Don't be nervous, love," Eva whispered, taking Cort's hand and leading him onto the dance floor.

Cort glanced back at his cane left leaning against the table. He could do this. He brought one hand around Eva's waist and took her right hand with the other.

"You're perfect," she smiled up at him, whispering so softly no one else could hear, "I love you."

He smiled, "Love you too." He closed his eyes for a moment as the music began. He wanted so badly to be able to waltz with her, to really dance. His steps were heavy and rough, but he tried, holding her close. He looked into her eyes and nothing else mattered. It didn't matter if he couldn't really dance. She was beautiful, and she was his. He barely heard the clapping as the music ended, leaning in for another kiss.

…

Cort half dragged her towards their room, pulling away from the kiss for a moment to open the door. He looked back at her, confused, pushing against the door, feeling some resistance. He opened the door finally, staring at the room.

Eva burst into laughter, shaking her head, "My brothers. I blame my brothers…" she tried to breathe while laughing.

The entire room was filled with balloons.

"Well?" Cort laughed too, "Do you have a pin?"

"I do actually," she giggled, reaching into her purse and pulling out two safety pins, "One of you," she handed it to him, "and one for me." She held it up like a sword, "I bet I'll pop more balloons than you!" she leaped into the room fiercely popping them.

Cort followed her in, stabbing at balloons, determined to win. Eventually, the room was littered with colorful deflated pieces of rubber.

"We can clean up this mess later…" Eva smiled, snapping her safety pin closed and dropping it into her pocket, watching Cort do the same, "By the way… I got 27, how about you?"

"I lost count," he laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist, "Does it matter?"

She pretended to be sad, "Yes it does matter… but not very much," she leaned up to kiss him again, "Now… what's my prize for winning…?"

"I don't know…" he smirked, sliding his hands up her waist.

She pulled away again running towards the bed, turning to look at him, standing in front of it, "Well?"

Cort smiled, walking up to her as quickly as he could. He grabbed her waist, pulling her onto the bed with him.

 _CRASH_

Cort looked up suddenly as the headboard fell onto the wall and they dropped almost a food as the base fell away onto the floor.

"What… what was…?"

Eva started laughing again, "I'm going to kill my brothers…" she shook her head, pulling Cort closer for a kiss, "Later…"

Cort nodded, "Later." he looked down at the base of the bed. The mattress sat fully on the floor. He didn't care. He pushed the headboard back, making sure it was steady against the wall and wouldn't fall on top of them.

"Well?" Eva asked with a smile, "What are you going to do now?"

"Hmm…" Cort smiled back, looking away for a moment, pretending to think hard.

Eva rolled her eyes, pulling him into another kiss.

He slid his hands up her sides, leaning deeper into the kiss, "You're perfect…" he whispered, leaning down to kiss her neck.

She closed her eyes, "I love you…"

Cort smiled, letting his hand slip under her shirt.

…

"Well hello," Eva smiled sleepily, looking up at Cort, her cheek still resting on his chest, her left arm around him.

"Hi," he smiled back, looking down at her with so much love she thought her heart would burst.

"I think I like you," she whispered.

He kissed her again, "I think I like you too."

She sat up suddenly, laughing again.

"What?" He asked, reaching up to caress her back.

"We still have to clean up all the dead balloons!"

* * *

A/N: An ALMOST ENTIRELY HAPPY CHAPTER!? From me? Yes. Yes indeed. I have a heart after all... somewhere... ;) No really this was one of my favorite chapters to write. Made me remember my own wedding... *happy sigh* Cort and Eva are SO CUTE guys. SO CUTE. I hope you all enjoyed your happiness! Cort really does deserve the happiness after all he's been through... and we even get a Frederich flashback for Gil! YAY!

Thank you all so much for the reviews! And so quickly after updating! I'm trying to update every day again, as you can tell. XD (NaNoWriMo kicking me back on track. Yes, I'm using this for my NaNoWriMo novel... we're already WAAAAAY past 50,000 words... but whatever lol. I feel way lesses stressed with NaNoWriMo this year... because at this point 50,000 words sound like a piece of cake lol. Last year I actually had trouble getting there. LOL. NOT ANYMORE!) Anyway... in case you all aren't sick of mashed potatoes yet... there are MORE! So more of those, and then some wedding food! We had this INCREDIBLE chicken for mine, so some of that for all of you. I think Cort probably had some fantastic German dishes for his, and of course, Luddy made the cake. So some of that for you all too! Yay! Wedding cake! (in your favorite flavor of course... Luddy made a LOT of cake... nervous baking... whatever works right?) ;) Anyway, thank you again for the reviews! New chapter up tomorrow if all goes as planned! Maybe even 2... I need to really book it if I'm going to make my goal for chapter numbers in regards to date... ;)


	82. Chapter 82: Heartbeat

Chapter 82

Gil looked down at the porcelain sink then back at the syringe in his hand. Almost half of the precious clear liquid was still inside, just a tiny bit more than the previous day. Slowly, slowly but surely he worked his way off. He looked down at it. He wanted it, his body craving the rush he wasn't going to give it. He shook his head, looking down at the sink again. He tipped the needle down towards the drain an pressed the back of the syringe, watching every drop wash down the drain.

Finally, he looked back at his arm, pressing against the deeply infected marks, trying to stop the intense sting running down to his fingers. He opened and closed his hand a few times, trying to relieve the pain. He winced, letting his head fall back, gritting his teeth. He turned back to his arm, grabbing a piece of tissue and pressing it onto his arm, trying to soak up infection and blood. He hated it, all of it. What had he done to himself? He was a soldier, not a drug addict. Only he was a drug addict… and he felt sick.

His chest heaved as he coughed into his better arm, acid burning the back of his throat. He grabbed for the glass he kept on the edge of the bathroom sink, filling it with water and drinking it quickly. It barely helped. He pressed his hands into his forehead, trying to force his stomach to calm down by sheer willpower. It only half worked.

Gil sighed deeply, feeling the drugs starting to work. His mind grew cloudy and his hands started to shake. He looked down at them, confused, his vision blurry. He pressed both hands over his face, taking a step back to steady himself. He turned around, holding onto the doorframe for support. He shook his head, waiting for the warm, safe feeling to settle into his chest. He still felt sick. He turned back into the room, kneeling at the toilet, grabbing the sides, trying to order his body to not throw up. It chose insubordination over pain. His hands still shook, his ribs aching, his lungs begging for air. He tried to take a deep breath. He couldn't. He felt fear using into his chest as his heartbeat slowed.

 _No. No no no no no this isn't happening…_ he shook his head, looking back up at the syringes on the side of the sink. Something was wrong. He turned back to the door, trying to stand. He couldn't, his legs giving out. He tried to breathe, his lungs shaking as the world spun around him. He reached for something, anything he could grab onto to steady himself, anything he could use to stand. His fingers wrapped around the corner of the sink and he tried to pull himself up. He barely managed to stand, turning to lean against the doorframe again. He looked up towards the rest of his room. It still spun, fading in and out of focus. He looked down, forcing himself to step forward, turning towards the door to his room. He had to breathe. He just had to breathe. His hands shook more, and his legs gave out again.

Gil didn't move, laying on his side, trying to breathe, trying to remind his own heart to just keep beating. Had he passed out? He didn't remember. He looked up towards his door, dragging himself towards it, scraping his bare side against the carpet. He didn't care how much it hurt. He got to the door, his breath so shallow he could barely move his hands. He reached for the knob, watching in blurred slow-motion as his almost blue fingers couldn't grip it. He let his arm fall against the door, slamming it against it again as hard as he could, barely making a sound. He opened his mouth to cry for help, but his body forced a breath instead of a scream.

 _God, please… please… please let someone find me, anyone, please…_ It was more than a prayer, he was begging. Gil closed his eyes, trying to focus on breathing, trying to feel his heart in his chest, trying to will it on to beat. _Please…_ he tried to let his wrist hit the door again, praying someone would hear it.

…

Poland looked up from his book, annoyed. Someone down the hall was tapping, and it was obnoxious. He slipped his bookmark into the pages and set the fiction on his nightstand. He looked at the clock. It was almost midnight. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, throwing off the covers and standing, tossing on a pair of sweatpants and very fuzzy slippers. He opened his door, standing in the hallway for a moment to listen for the tapping. He growled in the back of his throat, hearing the noise again. It was coming from Gil's room. He wasn't surprised. He contemplated turning back to his book and trying to ignore it, but he was too angry.

He stormed towards Gil's door and knocked, "Hey, could you, like, stop tapping on the door? It's annoying the-"

The tapping sped up, and he thought he could hear a gasp coming from inside the room.

"Gil? Gil, what are you doing?" He put his hands on his hips, "Gil?"

There was one more loud tap before another gasp, this time louder, and almost pained.

Poland bit his lip, "Gil…?" he asked more carefully, "Gil are you ok?" He put his ear to the door. He could still hear the sound of Gil breathing, heavy and slow, dangerously slow. He turned the doorknob.

Poland froze, just staring for a moment. Gil's hands and lips were blue. He was laying on his side, trying to force air into his lungs by willpower alone. The sound of his breathing was painful to listen to. He knelt beside him, leaving the door open.

"HELP!" he screamed, "SOMEONE, PLEASE HELP!" he looked back down at Gil, lifting his head gently, trying to help him breathe, "Gilbert…?" Gil…?" He looked at him, trying to figure out what to do, trying to help, somehow. He had to help. He glanced back at Gil's right arm and saw blood. Carefully, he moved it, trying to get a better look. The needle mark. Realization shot through his heart. He looked back towards the door again. He couldn't do this alone. He needed help, he needed Estonia, or Lithuania, or anyone who would listen. He didn't dare call for human doctors.

He turned back to Gil, shaking him gently, "Are you awake? You have to stay awake."

Gil nodded very slightly.

Poland grabbed his hand, pausing for a moment, biting his lip as the feeling sent a shiver down his spine. He shook his head, he didn't have time for a panic attack. He looked down at Gil's face, his lips blue, the veins in his neck more clear as his body begged for air. He shuddered. He couldn't do nothing.

"Can you squeeze my hand?" he asked, shaking, trying to stay calm.

Gil proved he could, his hands shaking with the effort. He could barely feel his hands, and his fingers were completely numb.

"Ok, ok good. One squeeze means 'yes', and two means 'no', ok?"

Gil gave one squeeze.

Poland sighed in relief. He looked back over his shoulder out the door, "PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP!" he screamed as loud as he could, banging on the side of the wall with his free hand, his other still closed around Gil's. He looked back at the white-haired country.

"Ok, did you take your normal dose of heroin?" Poland bit his lip.

Two squeezes.

Dread sank into Poland's stomach, "Did you take more?" he tried to force himself to ask the questions factually, his mind screaming at him to get away from Gil, to run and let him die.

Two squeezes.

Poland frowned, surprised, "Less?"

One squeeze.

"So you took less heroin than usual?"

Again, one squeeze.

Poland tried to think of a reason, any reason, why this was happening… unless the drugs weren't pure. If there was something to make them stronger inside them. He kept the thought tucked close by in his mind, looking down at Gil again, then away. He couldn't look at his face. He'd watched too many people die.

"Were you drinking before you took the heron?"

One squeeze again.

Poland winced, "Did you drink too much? Get drunk?"

Gil squeezed his hand twice.

Poland looked over his shoulder again, he needed more help. Someone had to be coming. He had to get someone to hear him. He just couldn't be loud enough.

"Gil," he turned to him again, shaking him again urgently as he saw Gil's chest completely still, "Gil wake up. I need you to wake up. Come on…" he pressed his fingers into the man's neck. The pulse was weak, but there, "Please breathe…"

Gil took a very faint, very shaky breath. But it was a breath.

Poland sighed in relief, "Can you still hear me?" he asked.

No squeezes.

"Gil?" He touched his shoulder again, "Gil, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

"No. No no no no no…" Poland looked over his shoulder again, why wasn't anyone there already. He took a deep breath, screaming as loud as he could. He heard doors opening as he turned back to Gil. He heard Lithuania's footsteps, at two others. He hoped it was Estonia and Latvia, or even Hungary or Ukraine, just someone other than Russia. Someone who could help.

"Feliks tell me everything you know," Estonia's voice was urgent as he knelt next to Gil, grabbing his hand from Poland and pressing his fingers into the man's wrist.

"He just stopped responding… I think he got a bad bag of drugs or something…?" Panic started to settle into Poland's chest, his hands shaking. He tried to force himself to stay calm. Estonia was there, he would fix things. He would help Gil.

Poland jumped, turning to see Lithuania's hand on his shoulder.

"Estonia, what do you need?" Lithuania's voice was equally hurried and Poland could feel his hand shaking on his shoulder.

"Just grab my bag!" Estonia almost snapped, not taking his eyes off Gil. "If you can hear me, Gil, please, please just try to breathe…" he shook the mans' shoulder, trying to force him awake.

Nothing.

Lithuania ran back as fast as he could, setting Estonia's back next to him, "What can I do?" he asked, looking down at Gil, shuddering to see his face. He couldn't watch. He didn't want to watch his friend die.

"It's labeled already for a heroin overdose," Estonia said simply, not taking his eyes off Gil.

"Ok…" Lithuania whispered, digging through the bag until he found it. It was a long needle. He winced, handing it to Estonia.

The blond nation drove it into Gil's leg without a moment of hesitation, "This will counteract it… if we got here in time. Other than that… there's nothing I can do. We just have to wait until he fights through it, or dies."

Poland turned back to look at Gil, leaning in to listen to him breathing, laying his head on the mans' chest. The breath was weak, almost nonexistent, but it was there, and it was slowly getting stronger.

"Hang on, Gil. Please just hang on…" he looked over at Lithuania worried.

Lithuania put his hand on Poland's should reassuringly, "Good job waking us up by the way. You almost killed us."

"Well at least, Gil's going to stay alive, so…" Poland bit his lip. He wasn't really in the mood to joke.

"I hope so…" Estonia said simply, inspecting Gil's arm, "Do you know where the rest of the heroin is? Empty syringes…. anything?"

Poland shook his head.

"B," Gil's voice broke very quickly, his breath still shaky and weak, "Bath… bathrmm sink… Itwasntright…" all his words slurred together until Poland couldn't understand it.

Lithuania ran into the bathroom, looking down at the sink where the syringes had fallen into it. He picked them up carefully, bringing it to Estonia.

"Thank you…" Estonia looked them over, smelling the liquid, "This wasn't pure… that's why this is happening…" he shook his head with a sigh. "We need to get him onto the bed…"

Lithuania nodded, turning to look at Poland.

"I don't want to touch him…" Poland shook his head.

"Can you move the covers for us?" Estonia asked, trying to be gentle.

Poland nodded, standing and running towards the bed, throwing the covers away from it.

Carefully, gently, Lithuania and Estonia lifted Gil and carefully laid him down on the bed, pulling the covers over him. Estonia listened to his heart again, nodding in approval.

"It's far from perfect, but it's there and getting stronger, so that's a start," he smiled, listening to his lungs again. His breath was shallow, but there. The counter-drug was working. Estonia sighed in relief.

"Gil, can you hear me?" he asked gently.

Gil manage to nod faintly.

"You're not going to die from this."

Gil didn't respond. His body burned, his limbs refusing to feel like anything but jelly. His lunges still heaved and his heart was heavy, pounding in his chest, but dangerously slow. He wasn't sure he wanted to survive. He would value the few hours of peace… he tried to open his eyes, his vision so blurred he could barely make out the faces. He fixed his eyes on a blond country he didn't recognize. He was too tall to be Latvia, and Estonia was standing next to him. He couldn't imagine it could be anyone else, unless…

"Poland?" Gil asked weakly.

"Yes?" Poland whispered, his own breath shaking.

"Thank you…" Gil nodded, trying to talk through the pain, trying to breathe.

"Stop talking, Gil," Estonia almost snapped, "Stop talking. Just breathe. Please, just breathe…"

* * *

A/N: New Chapter up! YAY! It's late and I'm super tired, so there will be like, no author's notes here... but yeah. Gil is trying to get off the drugs! And Poland was helpful! But, as much as he tried... he's still nervous around Gil. He still doesn't want to touch him or talk to him.

Thank you for all the reviews! YAY! I LOVE reading them. Even if all of you don't agree with all my story choices. ;) ;P Thank you so much for all the support. I really can't express how much it means to me! *hugs* cookies and cake and candy for all!


	83. Chapter 83: Cocoa

Chapter 83

Estonia dropped the empty syringes on Russia's desk, "Did you do this?"

Russia looked down at them with a sigh, then back up at Estonia, "What are you talking about? I gave him the drugs as usual."

"As usual?"

"Watch your tone."

"Did you add something to these?" Estonia slammed his hand on the table, angry.

Russia stood, grabbing the blond's wrist, "Speak to me that way again and I'll make you pay for it!"

Estonia nodded, looking away from Russia's face. He sighed in relief as Russia let go of his wrist and sat at his desk again.

"Now, what are you talking about?" Russia asked, his voice cold.

"The drugs… something was wrong with them…"

"What?" Russia stood again, his voice instantly concerned, "Estonia what happened?"

"He overdosed last night-"

"That's not possible. I only give him exactly-"

"It's possible if something was added to the drugs to make them stronger." Estonia set his jaw, "Was it you?"

"How dare you say that!" Russia snarled, grabbing Estonia's wrist again, forcing the man to his knees.

Estonia looked away, bracing himself for a blow that didn't come. He looked up at Russia.

"Is GDR all right?"

Estonia nodded, "Now! He almost died, Russia. If he were human…"

"Well, he isn't. So how is he?"

"He's fine. He's still in his room recovering… it wore him out…"

"Thank you for keeping him alive," Russia said coldly, letting go of Estonia's wrist finally, throwing the slightly shorter man to the ground.

Estonia looked up at Russia, pulling his arm over his face to defend his glasses from Russia's fist.

Russia kicked him in the ribs, "Get up."

Estonia obeyed, scrambling to his feet and stepping towards the door, not turning away from Russia. He glanced at the door quickly, then stood his ground, "Did you?"

"Did I what?" Russia snapped again, taking another step towards Estonia.

Estonia took one step backward, not taking his eyes off Russia's face, "Did you do something to Gil's drugs?"

"And if I did?"

"I'm just trying to understand what happened to him…" Estonia's breath shook a little, much to his embarrassment.

"It doesn't matter. Go. Get out before I make you, da?" Russia smiled, the same sickly childish smile he was so good at.

Estonia turned and ran through the door, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. He looked back at the door. He'd stood up to Russia, and he wasn't dead. Things had gone better than expected. He looked down the hallway towards Gilbert's room.

…

Prussia looked towards the door as Estonia entered. He was already sitting up, leaning against the headboard. He was weak, but could almost breathe normally again. Latvia sat beside him, with Lithuania and Poland at the table next to the bed. Hungary was leaning back against the bed, sitting on the floor with a notebook.

"Oh, look," Prussia smirked as Estonia walked in, "You're not dead. Or bleeding. Or… injured, really… What'd you say to him?"

"Actually I got pretty angry… but…"

"He's getting weaker!" Poland stood, looking at all of them, "He's weaker and… and so we have to do something!"

"Poland, calm down…" Prussia shook his head.

"I agree with Feliks," Hungary stood too, looking back at the rest of them, "I'm sick of this!" She shook her head, "My people are sick this! He's weakening, his new boss is pathetic, it's time we do something!"

"I-I-I-I think… I think think so t-too," Latvia nodded, shaking.

Prussia put his arm around the boy's shoulders, biting his lip. He shook his head, "It's risky…"

"Since when are you one to back away from a fight?" Hungary put her hands on her hips.

"Do you know what he does to me when I fight him?" Gil leaned forward towards her, his hands closing into fists.

"Yeah, he takes away your precious drugs, doesn't he!?"

"ETA STOP IT!" Poland stamped his foot.

Gil looked back at Poland, frowning with confusion. Poland was defending him?"

Hungary jumped, turning to her cousin, "Feliks…?" He'd never yelled at her.

"You… he hasn't done to you what he's done to me and Gil… you…" Poland shook his head, "You don't get it…" he looked away, glancing at Lithuania quickly. He knew he understood, more than the rest of them combined.

"I just can't do this anymore!" Hungary snapped, working hard to keep her voice low enough to Russia not to hear, she wanted to scream it, "I can't! I can't watch him hurt any of you anymore. I can't just do nothing. My people, they want freedom and so. do. I. I already opened my borders, Gil your people have been escaping through Roderich's land already, we aren't loosing!"

"We're not winning yet either," Gil shook his head.

"Why are you giving up? Where's your fight? Where's the Prussia I know?"

Gil looked away with a deep sigh. He hadn't been called that in a long time. _Prussia,_ his name, his real name. He missed it. He looked back at Hungary, "He took the fight a long time ago."

"Oh really? And you just let him!?"

Gil shook his head with a half laugh, "If you think that I have nothing more to say to you…" he looked away.

Hungary turned to Estonia, "What did Russia say?"

"He avoided my questions mostly… he seems stressed. He didn't tell me if he did that to the drugs…"

"Which which which means he he h-he probably d-d-did…?" Latvia trembled, laying his head on Gil's shoulder, trying to be comforting.

Gil pulled Latvia a little closer and kept his arm around him. He looked up at the others, including Hungary, "It doesn't matter if he did, or if he didn't… Estonia… is he getting weaker?"

Estonia nodded, "Yes. Yes I think he is. His new boss… he… he's different," Estonia smiled very faintly, "He's releasing prisoners, he's letting the press say what they want…"

"He's trying to regain control by loosening it?" Hungary shook her head, "That doesn't make a lot of sense…"

"It's a reasonably valid idea, actually," Gil broke in, nodding.

"Really, Gilbert?"

"What, it's true?" he didn't look at her.

"Do you know how infuriating you are sometimes?"

"Ja."

Hungary rolled her eyes, looking at Lithuania, "You're awfully quiet over there, Litva. Usually, it's Estonia who doesn't talk."

"What do you want me to say?" Lithuania looked up.

"I don't know… something?" Hungary sighed.

"You have to have a little hope, Liet… right?" Poland sat down again, reaching across the table to grab his friend's shaking hands.

"Hope?" Lithuania sighed, "It's been a long time…" he looked up at Hungary and Estonia, "Latvia, Estonia and I are states. Gorbachov is only lessening military control over the satellites, not us. Even if Russia _is_ getting weaker, it doesn't matter. Hungary you may have been allowed to open your borders, but mine are still closed. My people do fight, yes, but…" he looked down, "I don't know… I don't know if I can leave…"

"Do you… want to…?" Poland asked, biting his lip.

"Yes," Lithuania nodded, bringing his left hand to his face, leaning against the table, "God, yes… I want to get out of here…" he tried to hold back the tears. He didn't want to be the only one to cry. He wouldn't let himself cry.

"Liet…?" Poland's voice was gentle, almost tender. He stood, walking to the chair next to Lithuania and touched the man's shoulder.

Lithuania winced out of habit instead of pain, then relaxed.

"Are… are you you you you ok, Toris…?" Latvia slid off the side of the bed closest to the dark-haired country and ran to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

Lithuania hugged him back with a sigh, "No. Not quite ok, but… better than… sometimes…" he smiled at Latvia, pulling away from the hug. He still didn't really like being touched.

Hungary watched with a deep sigh. She was hardly friends with Lithuania, but it sent a deep ache to her chest to see anyone that broken, "We'll figure something out… we'll do something… we have to. We can't… we can't do this anymore. I can't watch him hurt any of you anymore…"

Estonia looked away, shaking his head, "Lithuania…"

The man looked up at him, sighing deeply, waiting for him to continue.

"My people are already starting to revolt… they are. I… There's going to be revolution and I'm not letting you stay here. I can't watch him hurt you either… I can't fix it anymore after it happens… after he… I have to stop it. I done dealing with the aftermath. I want to stop it."

"Liet, please! Belarus ditched you, so leave! Get out of here!" Poland looked into his best friend's face, "PLEASE!"

"Stop!" Lithuania shook his head. Those wounds were still fresh, "Please… let's… talk about something other than me. Please…?

…

"You nervous?" Germany put his hand on Cort's shoulder.

"Nervous? Me? Oh, not at all…" Cort leaned forward, pressing his head into his hands.

"Well I'm not nervous," Eva giggled, wrapping her arms around her ever-growing belly. "Ow!"

"What? Are you ok?" Cort sat up immediately, putting his hands on her shoulders, his eyes widening.

"I'm fine… just… kicking," she rolled her eyes, laughing, "Wanna feel?" she moved on her chair and put Cort's hand on her stomach. She smiled, watching him stare at his hand and gasp a little as he felt the little one move. "You too, Ludwig?"

"M-Me?" Germany blinked, looking up at her, his face going pale suddenly.

Eva laughed, "You're not afraid of a baby are you, Ludwig?"

"N-uh… um… I… um… no? yes?" Germany turned red, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to somehow get over the awkward answer with some dignity.

Eva laughed, reaching for his hand. She took it and brought it towards her stomach, looking up at him, "You sure you don't want to feel him? He's kicking a lot right now actually…" she squirmed a little.

Germany looked up at her, "If… if you're sure…"

Eva nodded, laying his hand on her stomach, right where the little one was kicking the most.

"Wh…wha… whoa…" Germany stuttered, blinking hard, staring at his hand in fascination. "Is it supposed to do that?"

Eva laughed, "Yes! It's a good thing. You've never… have you ever met someone pregnant before?"

Ludwig shook his head, "I don't think so… I certainly haven't…" he pulled his hand away almost reluctantly, "I certainly haven't done that before…" he looked at her stomach again, still fascinated.

Eva looked up at Cort with a smile, "Well, I think-"

"Eva Müller?" A nurse in pink scrubs opened the hospital door, carrying a clipboard and smiling brightly.

Cort took a deep breath and stood up, taking Eva's hand.

"I'll be here when you get back," Ludwig nodded, almost awkwardly.

Cort nodded back to him and walked through the door.

…

"You look tired…" Ukraine sighed, setting down steaming glass of hot liquid next to her brother's hand on the desk.

"I am tired…" he sighed deeply, looking up from where his head rested on his hand and away from the papers he could barely read anymore. He looked at the glass, "What did you bring me Kotyonok?"

"Your favorite: hot cocoa with vodka."

Russia smiled, then looked up at her with a little mischievous sparkle in his eyes, "I prefer vodka with hot cocoa."

Ukraine laughed and smacked his arm gently, "Oh you! You'll like it. Try it?"

Russia took the glass by the metal holder and lifted it to his lips. It was hot, almost enough to burn, but he didn't mind. His smile widened and he sighed, the liquid warming the inside of his throat, it only for a moment.

"Spasiba, Kotyonok," he reached up to grab her hand, rubbing it gently, "You didn't have to bring this for me…"

"I know… I just… you've been sad lately, and I wanted to cheer you up!" She smiled.

Russia nodded slowly, looking back down at the papers with a deep sigh, "my new boss… he… he wants to give them more freedom. He's trying to stop them from revolution… I don't know if it's working…"

Ukraine put her hand on his shoulder gently, "I'm sorry…"

"They all hate me, Kat… they all hate me…"

"I don't. Natya doesn't. We both love you…"

"Natya is unstable…" Russia shook his head, setting the glass down and pressing both of his palms into his forehead.

"Well, I'm not!" Ukraine smiled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, "Love you, little brother," she ruffled his hair, kissing the top of his head.

Russia smiled, "Love you too, Katya."

"See? Everything's going to work out. I promise," she smiled, "I'll see you for supper? Or should I bring it up here for you…?"

"I'll eat up here. Too much work to do…" he sighed again, taking another drink of the hot liquid with a smile, "Thank you again for this," he smiled.

"Of course. Anytime," she kissed his head again and turned to the door, "Just let me know if you need more, ok?"

He only nodded.

…

Cort stared at the doctor, speechless. He looked back at Eva. Tears had filled her eyes and she was squeezing his hand so hard he could barely feel his fingers.

"We… we're what…?" he whispered.

The doctor pointed to the ultrasound, "Well, as you can see…"

Cort blinked hard, just to be sure. Nothing changed on the ultrasound screen. "We're having TWINS!?"

* * *

A/N: And I'm back! Sorry about last night... I had such a bad migraine that I went to bed at like 9:30... ugh. I hate migraines... =_=. Anyway... several shorter scenes in this chapter. The Eastern Bloc is getting bolder, more rebellious... but... still not perfect, and CORT IS HAVING KIDS! WOOO HOOO. And then there's quite a sad bit between Ukraine and Russia. They really do love each other (as siblings of course!), and it's really sad what's going to happen to them... how posessive he will get... how scared she'll be... and how she won't be allowed to talk to him anymore... it's quite heartbreaking... but for now, she can bring him hot chocolate (with vodka!) and try to do as much as she can for him... poor both of them...

Thank you so much for the reviews! I really REALLY REALLY love reading them! And you guys have been leaving such awesome reviews! yay! :D :D More mashed potatos for you all, and hugs, and strawberries, and happieness! And hot cocoa. With or without vodka (if you're old enough!). Your preference. XD


	84. Chapter 84: Tired

Chapter 84

Prussia took a long deep breath as he woke. He smiled, enjoying the feeling of working lungs again. He sat up quickly, threw off the covers, slid out of bed, and dressed in his uniform. He sighed deeply, looking at his face in the mirror. He touched his cheeks. They were still thin and shallow, but he tried to convince himself that they weren't as bad as they were before he started slowly taking less and less of the drugs he hated. He turned to the door, surprised to see Poland leaning against the open doorpost, the low light just barely illuminating his face.

"What are you doing here?" He forced himself to sound cold, turning away. He shouldn't be here. He wasn't an enemy, but he wasn't a friend either, and Gil didn't want to talk to him.

"What's, like, wrong with you? Did I totally defend you from Hungary, like, yesterday? Not to mention saving your life a week ago…" Poland shrugged.

"Ja. Danke," he still hadn't looked up at Poland.

"Gilbert…" Poland shook his head, "Why are you so, like, stubborn?"

" _I'm_ stubborn?" he glanced at the small blond country for a moment, before turning back to the mirror and pretending to comb his hair. It was a useless endeavor, but he tried anyway.

"Yes. You're stubborn," Poland nodded, "So…we're not going to talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about it? You still hate me, I feel nothing towards you, and we've never really gotten along. I don't think _talking_ is the best idea."

"I… I don't… I don't still hate you. I don't exactly _like_ you. But I don't hate you. Not anymore…"

Gil looked at him without a word.

"Look…" Poland stood from leaning on the door, talking with his hands, "I know I'm not…" he tried to think of what he intended to say, dropping the pattern of speech that he used to make himself sound less intimidating. He didn't care. He knew Gil didn't care. "Gil… I… I don't quite forgive you… but… but I don't want to see you hurt anymore. Our governments have been getting along for a while now, but you and I still don't talk."

"There's a reason for that…" Gil still didn't look at him.

"What, are you mad at me now? Because-"

"I tried, Feliks. I tried. And you made it quite clear that you didn't want to hear it. I will never stop being sorry… but… but I don't want to talk to you."

"Why not? Why? You don't want to hear that I might actually listen to you now?"

"And why the hell would you do that?" Gil snapped, turning suddenly to face Poland, forcing himself to not close his hands into fists.

"Because there's something about seeing someone you know on the ground turning blue and gasping for breath that hurts a little! Gil, it was horrible and… you… the drugs… Gil, I have to know…"

"Know, _what_?" Gil's hand shook. There were things he didn't want Poland to know.

"The drugs. When did you start taking them…. exactly…?"

Gil shrugged casually, "A long time ago. That's all I know or care."

"Was it after I told you… after I told you what happened?" Poland winced. He didn't need an answer from Gil, he could see it on his face, "Gil…"

"Please… please get out…" Gil looked away, "Please…"

"Gil, I didn't…"

"Oh, yes you did," Gil shook his head, "You said you wanted me to hurt. That you wanted to watch it tear me apart to learn what I've done…" he forced his voice not to break, "There are sins I will _never_ redeem myself from… not even with blood…"

Poland kept his eyes down, his hands shaking, "Are you saying… are you saying it's my fault that you… that what happened… that you taking those…"

"You didn't force me to take them," Gil shook his head, "And I doubt you're really hurt by it…"

"How can you say that?"

"I hurt you. You remember what I did to you!? You're right. Don't forgive me, please, don't, I don't deserve it…"

"So you're just giving up!? You can't give up! Don't you get it, Russia's weak! He's weak and we can get away! What about seeing your brother again? The whole world's forgiven him, don't you think they'll-"

"Do you?" Gil turned to look into the deep green eyes that glanced away from him.

Poland closed his eyes for a moment, then ran out of the room without another word.

"That's what I thought…" Gil walked out the door slowly, closing it behind him. He sighed, closing his eyes again. He wanted to keep fighting. They all wanted him to keep fighting. He was fighting, his people slowly getting bolder, stronger, more willing to fight the Soviet Union. It scared him a little. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He didn't want Russia's games to win, but his mind was cloudy, afraid to even think of rebellion. He looked down at his hands, just barely starting to tremble. He needed the drugs again.

He took a deep breath and walked to Russia's door, reaching up and knocking. He opened it slowly as he heard Russia call for him to enter.

"You had asked to see me this morning, comrade?" he kept his eyes straight ahead, not looking at Russia, standing at attention, his hands behind his back.

"Da," Russia stood, "I want to talk to you about some rumors going on. Started by Poland, I believe? With Estonia's help…" Russia smiled, walking towards Gil, circling him slowly, threatening.

GDR closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard, trying not to shake. He wasn't a Baltic, he could take this, Russia hadn't even touched him… "Da, comrade?"

"About the drugs I gave you almost one week ago. You remember?"

"Like I could forget…comrade," GDR remembered the respectful word, hoping it would calm Russia. He could almost feel the buried anger from the other man.

Russia nodded, "No, I'm sure it wasn't…"

GDR took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment again.

"They question your loyalty to me and mine to you… but there's nothing wrong, da?"

GDR nodded, "Nothing wrong. Nothing at all, sir-Comrade."

"What's your name?"

Gil winced hard, "German Democratic Republic…"

"And what are you?"

"A Soviet satellite state," he breathed hard, daring to include the extra word, praying it wouldn't trigger a reaction.

"And who do you belong to, GDR?" Russia's voice was ice.

"The Soviet Union… you…"

"And that means you have to obey me, doesn't it?"

Gil turned to look at Russia, nodding, "Ja."

Russia grabbed his face, turning it towards his own, which was threateningly close, the violet eyes flashing with rage, "If you EVER try to lower your dose again-"

Prussia pulled his face free, pushing Russia's hand away, "You… you knew…?" His stomach turned, weight instantly hitting his chest. He tried to hide how badly he was shaking. It didn't work.

"Did I forget to tell you the rumors were right? Lessons aren't always easy, GDR, you know that! You need to think about your loyalty, da? What's your name?"

Gil clenched his hands into fists, setting his jaw and looking straight into Russia's face.

"What. Is. Your. Name?"

Gil looked into Russia's eyes, a faint smirk daring to cross his lips as he whispered with all the buried defiance he could find, "Prussia."

Russia struck his face hard enough to send him to the ground.

"Did they tell you I was weak? I'm not! I'm not and I never will be!" Russia's voice was angry, pained, the words reassuring himself as much as GDR.

"Your father might disagree!" Prussia spat back, looking up at him, turning to stand again.

Russia kicked him back to the ground, letting his boot rest against the smaller country's throat, "Don't bring up my father, do you understand? Ever…"

Prussia looked up at him, bringing both of his hands to Russia's boot, trying to pry it off his neck.

Russia stepped back towards his desk, letting Prussia stand.

Prussia looked up at Russia again, "Was there anything else you wanted, _comrade_?" he kept his eyes fixed on Russia's, his hand clenched into fists.

"Da," Russia sighed, "I've been ordered, by my own boss, to send you to Berlin."

"What?" Prussia looked at him steadily, confused and worried. It didn't make any sense. With Russia weakening, he should want to keep his enemies close.

"I said, I'm sending you to Berlin. Apparently, you're needed there more than you are here," Russia picked up a small case and tossed it towards Prussia.

He caught it, looking down at the zippered leather. He glanced back up at Russia, his hand shaking more than he wanted them to.

"It's good, I promise. I didn't do anything to it."

Prussia nodded, turning towards the door.

"Are you going to thank me?" Russia asked coldly.

"For?" Prussia looked over his shoulder towards the bigger country.

"For the lesson?"

Prussia winced, setting his jaw, "Nein. Nein, I'm not." he slammed the door behind him, walking quickly through the hallway, expecting to hear Russia's footsteps close behind him.

Nothing.

…

Germany rolled to his side, pulling his pillow over his head, trying to drown out the noise, trying to stop the horrible pounding behind his eyes. He groaned in his sleep, his legs tangling in the blankets as he tossed and turned, begging his mind to go black with deep sleep. He couldn't take the nightmares.

 _"_ _Gil!" Luddy screamed, running to his brother's side as his men carried him into the palace. Blood soaked down his brother's chest and sleeve, dripping off his fingertips onto the marble floor. He ran to him, grabbing the collar of his brother's uniform, shaking him, trying to get between the men carrying him inside, trying to get to his brother._

 _"_ _Please let us get through, Junger Herr (young sir)," the soldiers tried to keep Luddy back, pushing the small boy away gently, "Please we need to get him inside._

 _"_ _Please tell me he's not dead… please…" Luddy whispered, trying to reach for his brother's hand. He slipped on the blood, unable to keep his grip._

 _The soldiers said nothing, continuing to carry Prussia into the nearest room, laying him on a table and ripping open his uniform._

 _"_ _Is there a doctor coming, please!?" Luddy begged, grabbing Prussia's hand, leaning against the table, pressing his brother's fingers into his cheek, "Weißer Ritter…(White Knight)" Luddy whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks, "Bitte…. bitte stirb nicht…bitte….(please don't die)"_

 _"_ _Junger Herr, please," one of the soldiers gently pushed him away, his voice full of urgency, "You shouldn't be in here."_

 _"_ _Nein, I need to stay here!" he clung to his brother's hand as the soldier grabbed his waist, picking him up, "Nein! Nein!" he kicked, screaming, trying to hold on, clawing at the table… "Nein I want to be with him… nein…"_

 _The soldier said nothing, continuing to try and drag him away._

 _"_ _NEIN!" he screamed again, his grip on the table stronger than the soldier could pull him away from._

 _"_ _Ludwig, please, please, you shouldn't be here!"_

 _Luddy let go of the table, grabbing onto the soldier's uniform, sobbing on the man's shoulder, "Bitte…"_

 _The soldier let him go suddenly, standing to attention as the door to the room opened again. Several men rushed in, one of them clearly a doctor. Luddy stood to attention with the soldiers suddenly, staring into the face of the young man who ran to his brother's side. The man looked right at him like he was staring into his soul._

 _"_ _Seine Majestät… (Your Majesty)" Luddy whispered, trembling in awe._

 _Friedrich nodded to him quickly, immediately turning to Prussia as the doctor began working on the country's chest._

 _"_ _Luddy, you should go," Frederich said without looking at him._

 _"_ _Please… Please, Seine Majestät…"_

 _"_ _Nein. You need to leave," Friedrich looked into his face_

 _Luddy bit his lip hard, nodding, not taking his eyes off his brother as he walked to the door. He glanced down at his hands, wet and sticky with his brother's blood. He looked up at the table again, turning away with a gasp as he saw the doctor took out a knife._

Germany winced, rolling over again, shaking, pulling the covers up over his shoulders. He shook his head, trying to think of something else, anything else.

 _Germany hit the ground, covering his ears, dropping to one knee instantly._

 _"_ _KEEP GOING!" He snapped to his men, looking up and across the field to the enemy lines. Only it wasn't an enemy, they were Italy's men._

 _The world blurred. Smoke, ash, dust… the ringing of explosions making it hard to hear or see or feel anything other than the vibration that turned his legs to liquid. He clutched the strap of his gun, running forward with his men, tanks clearing the way. Italy's men were loosing and losing badly. He climbed over a low hill, scanning the battlefield before him. He shook his head, ignoring the thousands of bodies piled on the field. He slid over the hill, carefully looking over the field for anything dangerous. Nothing. He turned suddenly as another soldier ran up behind him._

 _"_ _Italy's surrendered the battle, sir," the soldier nodded, grinning, putting his hand on his shoulder._

 _Germany nodded, barely registering the news. He looked at the battlefield again, dread sinking into his stomach. He stood slowly, walking forwards a few steps, looking down at the dead soldiers as he passed them. He froze suddenly, an electric blue uniform bright against the dull grey smoke._

 _"_ _Nein…" he whispered, running, scrambling over the soldiers to the man. He knelt beside him, his jaw falling open in shock. He reached forward, touching the soft red hair, "F-feli…?" he whispered, his fingers shaking. He shook his head, reaching under the little country, trying not to think about the feeling of blood-soaked fabric on his fingers._

 _Slowly, gently, he lifted Italy up and onto his shoulder, gasping in horror as he looked down at Italy's left arm…what was left of it._

 _"_ _Please…" he whispered, looking down at the wounds all over the redhead's body, tearing through the uniform, torn through his body from shrapnel and bullets. He looked away, pressing his forehead against the man's chest, shaking his head, trying to keep the tears back._

 _"_ _L-Ludwig…?"_

 _Germany looked up into his face, "I'm here… I'm here…" he brushed Italy's blood and sweat-soaked hair out of his face, ignoring the damage the action revealed. He felt Italy's right hand on his arm, grabbing his sleeve. He tried to hope Italy was in shock so there was less pain, but he wasn't convinced._

 _"_ _I'm so sorry…. I had to I'm so sorry…"_

 _"_ _And… and I had to leave…" Italy squeaked in pain, his grip on Germany's sleeve tighter. Tears streamed down his cheeks._

 _"_ _Stop talking…" Germany almost snapped, brushing Italy's tears away, his hands shaking._

 _"_ _Can…" Italy whispered, ignoring Germany's order, "Can we still… be friends…?"_

 _Germany didn't know how to answer, looking up at at the battlefield around them. He didn't want this. He didn't want any of this._

 _"_ _I'm sorry I left…" Italy choked, "I had to leave… I… I had to…"_

 _"_ _Shh… sh… I said stop talking… please, Ita, please…"_

 _"_ _I… what you're doing… I can't… I can't help you…" Italy shook his head, a deep, gasping sob shaking his whole body._

 _Germany winced, looking away. He didn't want to watch him die. He couldn't watch him die. He wasn't an enemy. He had to be, but he couldn't be. Italy was his best friend. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. His brother was right: war was hell. War was nothing but hell. He looked back at Italy._

 _"_ _Feli… Feli…?" He shook his head, lifting him up more, trying to wake him, "Please, Feli please, please don't, please… please…"_

Germany sat up with a gasp, shaking. He felt sick, bringing his trembling hands to his mouth, pressing them into his face.

"Germany…?"

He looked at his door, hearing a faint knock. Slowly, he stood, walking to the door and opening it gently. He looked down at the redhead, trying to seem normal, trying to seem like everything was ok. He'd gotten used to playing that game.

"Germany… I heard you… crying…?" Italy whispered.

Germany closed his eyes with a deep sigh.

"What happened?" Italy hugged him, pulling away to look up at the tall blond country.

Germany said nothing, looking away, shaking his head.

"You watched me die again… didn't you….?" Italy bit his lip.

Germany nodded slowly, "Ja…"

Italy hugged him again, "And you had the weird dreams, didn't you?"

Germany nodded again, "They're… memories? Maybe? I don't know… I don't know where they come from. They're foggy… foggy and…. distant? I think they're mine. I was just a child… I think…?" He shook his head, trying to think, trying to process, pressing his head into his hands.

Italy bit his lip, "I don't know… I don't know but… but we're still friends. It's over. I'm alive again, and… It's gonna be ok!" Italy made himself smile, reaching up and ruffling Germany's already messy hair, "See? Better already?"

Germany rolled his eyes with a very faint smile, pushing his hair back off his forehead, "Now it's better…" it flopped into his face again with no gel to hold it back. He ignored it.

Italy smiled, "Would pasta help?"

Germany shook his head, "No… not now anyway…"

Italy sighed. He could see how upset Germany was in his face, how he was standing… he didn't like it, "You're going to do something, aren't you? Something about… something?"

Germany nodded with a deep sigh, "I can't lose anyone else. I can't…"

"Ve?" Italy smiled.

"I'm getting my brother back. I don't care how, or what it takes. I'm getting my brother back!" Germany set his jaw, turning back into his room and grabbing his phone, calling America.

"HEY" America's voice cracked on the other end, "Wait… dude, isn't it like, 3 am there? Why are you calling me instead of sleeping? Sleeping is the BEST-"

Germany cut him off, "America… Alfred this is serious…"

"Ok, go for it, bro."

Germany took a deep breath. He didn't want to, but he needed to. "I need your help…"

* * *

A/N: It's late... er... WAY early... so... very short ANs today. Historical things and moving closer and closer to the wall coming down!

Poor Gil... he's just so done, he's just given up so completely... surrendered to the idea that he will never get-over or redeem himself from his 'sins' in the war... that he doesn't even want Poland to forgive him anymore. I think he might be a little afraid of what he'd do if he didn't have that to hold onto... poor Gil...

Germany remembering pre-1900's... so... I think he doesn't USUALLY remember, not in normal life. But he does have vague 'snippet' dreams sometimes. Sometimes more often than other times. This can happen with amnesia sometimes. So I'm going with that. :)

Thank you for the reviews! Cookies and hugs for all of you! Thank you SOOOOO much! :D :D :D


	85. Chapter 85: Reliving

Chapter 85

"L-L-Lithy?" Latvia knocked on the side of the doorframe, staring into the dark room. Lithuania sat on a chair by the window, looking out at the snow. He looked far away, distant from the reality of where and when they were. Latvia stepped closer slowly, finally close enough to touch the other man. He spoke his name again, trembling more.

Lithuania sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, turning to look at Latvia with a faint smile. The dim blue of the moon reflecting off the snow the only light on his face, "Latvia," he smiled gently, reaching for the boy's shoulder with another sigh.

"What are you-you th-thinking about?" Latvia asked carefully.

"A lot," Lithuania replied simply, turning to look out the window again, "A lot of…" he sighed again.

"…l-long time agos…?" Latvia finished his sentence.

Lithuania nodded, "Lifetimes ago."

"For h-humans…" Latvia sighed. Sometimes humans had it easy.

Lithuania nodded.

"Are you h-happy, Lithy?" Latvia asked suddenly, breaking the long silence Lithuania didn't realize had passed.

"Are you?" Lithuania didn't want to answer the question.

Latvia sighed deeply, "No."

Lithuania looked at him again, "What would make you happy?" He asked gently. Happiness didn't come up at Russia's house, not often. Talking about it was too painful.

"W-Well…" Latvia tried to collect his thoughts, keeping the tears choked back, "I want to go to my coast, watching the ships and boats go by. It's beautiful there… My forests too," Latvia smiled, "I like climbing trees, and I'm good at it! I have this one tree in the forest by my favorite castle where there are all kinds of marks in it from when I would hit it with my sword! It's huge now, bigger than me! Well…" he looked down, "I suppose… I suppose a lot of things are bigger than me… but you can still see the sword marks if you look really really close!" Latvia grinned, "And that makes me happy. And the food makes me happy, and-" he stopped, turning to look at Lithuania's face again. He could see pain in his eyes, "What… what w-would make y-you happy, Lithy?"

Lithuania sighed again, deeply, looking out the window again, "Going home."

Latvia put his hand on Lithuania's shoulder, not speaking for a moment. When he finally did, his voice was choked, tears streaming down cheeks that were just a little too childish for his age, "I want to go home too…"

Lithuania tried to swallow down the catch in his throat. He rubbed Latvia's shoulder gently, trying to be encouraging, not daring to speak.

"L-Lithy?" Latvia reached up to wipe his tears with his sleeve, the embroidered cuff scratching across his eyes, "We're we're we're going to go home soon… right?"

A choked, soft sob escaped Lithuania's throat. He nodded slowly, bringing his head to Latvia's shoulder, his right hand covering his eyes. He didn't want to cry, but the tears refused to be held back, streaming down his cheeks, threatening to choke him if he didn't let them out. He felt Latvia's fingers in his hair, petting it gently.

Latvia carefully held Lithuania, petting his hair with one hand, his other on the man's arm. He didn't touch his back. Lithuania didn't let anyone touch his back, not unless they had to. He couldn't see the marks through Lithuania's shirt, but he knew they were there. It made him sick.

"We have to go home…" Lithuania whispered, his voice thick with tears as he licked them off his lips.

"S-s-soon…?"

Lithuania nodded.

…

"And then the German army-" Eva stopped suddenly as she saw Germany's face. She could clearly see the distress he was clearly trying to hide, "Luddy? Are you all right? Did I say something?" She gasped suddenly, reaching across the dinner table to put her hand on his, "Oh, I'm so sorry, did you loose someone in the war? I didn't think, I-"

"It's all right," Germany nodded, standing. He picked up his plate, taking a step towards the kitchen, "I'll… I'll be back in a moment…"

Eva turned to Cort, "I'm so sorry… I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have brought up the war… I just… I was reading about it today at work and-"

"It's all right, Love," Cort sighed, "It's just… a hard topic for him." Cort bit his lip.

Eva nodded, "I'm so sorry… did he… did he lose someone?"

Cort thought for a moment, looking down, trying to think of a convincing explanation, "You could say that," he mentally kicked himself for it. He was supposed to keep her from asking more questions, not feed her curiosity, why did he say that? He tried to shut his brain up, trying to think of a logical explanation for his pervious sentence when Germany walked back into the room, sitting across from them again. Cort could see the stress in the way Germany set his jaw, the way he moved his hands, and the tiny beads of sweat just visible at his hairline. He tried to think of a conversation he could start up. Something that wouldn't bring up anything painful for either of them. There were things they hadn't told Eva. Things there was no way she could ever know.

"Luddy?" Eva's voice broke through Cort's thoughts, "Luddy I'm so sorry… I didn't mean bring up anything hard… Let's… Let's talk about something else? You pick? Or… Or… You're getting ready for the new football season right? Cort said you work with the team sometimes! That must be so exciting, why don't you tell me about it? Do you know all the players? Are they nice? They seem nice…"

"Eva…" Germany whispered, keeping his eyes on his hands, trying to order himself not to pick at his fingers nervously.

Eva stopped, looking up at him. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, feeling sick with worry. She hated upsetting anyone, especially a friend. It didn't help the feeling that the babies were kicking again.

"Eva, there…" Germany shook his head. He couldn't tell her. He looked up at Cort. He trusted Cort with the secret and he'd kept it. Cort had a government job. That meant secrets. Eva knew that. She understood. She didn't ask questions he knew she wanted to. The only thing she knew about Cort's past was that he was from East Germany, but nothing before he escaped over the wall for what she thought was the first and only time. He looked back into her face. He wanted to trust her. He didn't like lying. Lying to humans was part of being a nation. He didn't like it.

Germany stood again, looking directly into Cort's face, "You need to tell her."

Cort looked away.

"Tell me… what?" Eva whispered, nervous still, looking up at Germany, "Ludwig what's going on…?" Tears filled her eyes, "What does Cort need to tell me…?"

"Everything," Germany sighed, stepping towards the door. He stood straight, nodding to both of them politely, "Thank you for dinner. It was very good. I'll you at work tomorrow, Cort."

Cort nodded slowly, still not looking at either of them.

Germany sighed again, leaving the house, closing the door behind him as gently as he could. He didn't want Eva to think he was angry. He wasn't angry. Dread had settled into his stomach as it turned at the thought of someone else knowing. He could trust her. He had to trust her. She was Cort's wife, that meant he could trust her. He chewed on his bottom lip, trying for stop, as he got into his car. He let his head rest against his hands on the top of the steering wheel for a moment, leaning forward, trying to reassure himself that everything would be fine. Everything had to be fine.

Cort turned to look at Eva, taking her hand and squeezing it gently.

"C-Cort?" she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks, "Cort what's going on…?"

Cort closed his eyes for a moment, opening them with a determined sigh. He turned, looking into her face, forcing himself to make and keep eye contact. He wasn't going to be afraid of this, "We need to talk, about a few things…"

"Cort…" Eva whispered, shaking her head, "Please, just tell me you're ok? Did I do something? Cort please, are you mad at me…?"

"No, no no no…" Cort shook his head, leaning over and kissing her forehead, "Nothing like that… I… It's…" he sighed, shaking his head, standing, not letting go of her hand, "We can't talk about this here…" he helped her stand, leading her to the couch gently.

Cort sat down first, offering to let Eva cuddle on his shoulder. She sat next to him, turning to look at him instead. He felt her hands going cold. Carefully, he reached around her to the blanket that rested on the arm of the couch and pulled it around her, looking into her face.

"Cort, please just tell me what's wrong…" Eva broke, bringing her free hand to her face, her other still in his, "I'm sorry…" she shook her head, "I'm sorry I'm crying… I'm want to blame being pregnant, but…"

"It's ok…" Cort nodded, reaching up and brushing away her tears gently, "I… This…. This isn't…" he tried to find the words, stopping for a moment to collect his thoughts, "This isn't going to sound very… logical…" he didn't think he was off to a very good start, "At least… not all of it…"

"Ok…?" she whispered, more nervous than before, "Is this… is this about you… when you were a child? You said before it was too painful to talk about. That you didn't want to tell me. I respected that. I still do. You don't… you don't have to… If you don't want to tell me, I won't ask you to…"

"You deserve to know…" Cort nodded slowly, sighing deeply and pausing again, thinking. How was he supposed to tell her everything? How was he supposed to tell her about living personified countries without sounding insane? How was he supposed to tell her that the man she called 'friend' was partially responsible for the war it was her job to study? He looked up into her face, "You know I grew up in East Germany…"

She nodded.

"And I lost my father in the war."

She nodded again, "Your mother died when you got across the wall, and you have one sister, Gisela…"

Cort shook his head, his voice breaking, tears filling his eyes, "I have one sister… now…"

"Cort…?" She put her hand on his shoulder lovingly.

Cort tried to collect himself. He had to tell her. He couldn't hide this from her anymore. He couldn't hide any of it, "I had three sisters, all older. Bern was five years older than Gisela, and…" his voice broke. He hadn't said her name in so long, "Adelaide…" he tried to force himself to speak. He had to get through all of this. He could get through all of this, "Adelaide was the oldest."

Eva said nothing, waiting for him to continue. She still felt sick with worry.

"Bern was… killed… when the Russian soldiers were in Berlin…" he shook his head, "She… um…" he couldn't say it, "She died… I was only seven… I didn't um… understand then… She was 16…"

"Oh, Love, I'm so sorry…" Eva shook her head, she couldn't imagine. She wanted to ask about the other sister, but she didn't. She didn't want to hurt him.

"Adelaide… Adelaide…" he could barely say her name, "Adelaide was the oldest… She… she used to make a game out of everything… even.. even the scary stuff. Even when the soldiers would come and knock on the door, steal things… she would make it a game for Gisela and I. Like hide and seek, or something…" he shook his head, "She didn't seem scared of anything…" he kept going, forcing himself to speak, "I worked at the fanciest hotel on the East side. I just carried luggage, greeted guests… nothing special…" he sighed, "That's where I met Ludwig's brother…"

"The one on the other side of the wall, right? G… Gilbert, right?"

Cort nodded, "Ja…"

"You know him too?"

Cort nodded again with a deep sigh, "Ja… I met him there… he… he killed my sister. He killed Adelaide. I was 10. I watched. He was ordered to kill her while… while someone else held a gun to my head and gave him a choice. Her or me… he picked her…" Cort brought his hands to his face, leaning forwards.

Eva reached forward, wrapping her arms around him. She didn't know what to say. She didn't have words.

"Then he shot himself… I saw all of it…" Cort looked up, trying to steady his voice, "Russia let us go over the wall… Adelaide was a spy. Her trade was the information she had… and her life… to get us over the wall. Mama, Gisela and me… to get us over the wall…"

"Cort… I don't…" Eva tried to think of words, "Luddy's brother… how can you…?"

"Ludwig is nothing like his brother…" Cort shook his head, "But… this is the part that's going to sound… odd…" He tried to regain composure.

"All right…"

"That wasn't the last time I saw Gilbert."

Eva pulled away, "Cort… Cort, you just said he shot himself…"

Cort nodded, "He did. I saw him do it."

"How did he survive?"

"He didn't."

Eva sat up, looking at him steadily, "Ok, I… I'm worried… about you… but I promised I'd listen… so…" She motioned with her hands for him to continue.

"Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt, aren't human."

"What?" Eva stared at him, more worried than before.

"They're Nations. Countries. Living, personified, countries. They represent the people, the land… the culture… everything that makes up a country, except the government. They have to listen to their government, but they don't represent it… they… they're as old as the countries they represent. Ludwig is Germany. His brother Gilbert… is-was… Prussia. Now, he's East Germany, controlled by Russia. Ivan Braginsky. He's the one…" Cort motioned to his leg, "Who gave me this."

Eva just stared, "W-What?"

"I told you I came across the wall when I was 10. That was true. But it wasn't the last time."

"You said you lost your leg from a crazy man with a gun…"

"I didn't lie. Germany… Ludwig sent me back over the wall as a spy. I asked. I was too young, but I wanted to go. My mother had died, and Gisela ran away. I had nothing… I… I wanted to help my country. So I didn't. Literally."

"This can't be real… this can't be real, you're teasing me… you… you… what?" Eva shook her head.

"I… I went back. That's when I found Gilbert. Countries can't die. They can't, it's impossible. If they do, they just come back, they heal. To them… death is like passing out for a few days, their bodies shut down everything except what's needed to heal whatever injury they've taken, and then wake up. I don't understand it… but that's how it works."

"That doesn't… make any sense…" Eva shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around everything she was hearing, "So… so they're all old…?"

Cort nodded. "Germany… Ludwig… is one of the youngest actually. Russia and Prussia are older, much older. I think… I think Germany told me China is the oldest? I forget now…"

"All the countries in the world… they all have… a… person? What did you call them?"

"Nations."

"They all have a nation…"

Cort nodded, "You can't tell anyone. Please, if the wrong people find out…"

"About immortal countries? Oh I'm sure there are lots of wrong people to find out…" she shook her head, "Oh Cort… I… I don't know if I can believe you…"

"I can prove it," Cort nodded, "Well… you can actually. Prove it to yourself…" he sighed, "Ludwig Beilschmidt, Germany, as old as the country… high ranking officer in his army…" he hoped he wouldn't have to say it. He saw it dawn on her face.

"Oh, God…" she brought her hand over her mouth, shaking her head, "No… you're not saying he…"

Cort nodded slowly, "He fought in the war. He helped… he helped lead the war."

Eva stood, shaking her head, "No. No, I can't believe that. He… he hurt… do you how many people he…"

"He didn't know. Not about everything. I promise he didn't…"

"No. No there's no way he couldn't have known. He had to. He had to have known…" She shook her head, "How could he… how can you be friends with someone like that!?" She covered her face, sobbing, "How can you… Cort… Cort…?" She didn't know what else to say.

"I love you…" he whispered, trying to reassure her.

She didn't answer, turning and walking up the stairs. She didn't know what to say. She climbed into bed, rolling onto her side and turning off the light. She felt Cort slide in next to her and wrap his arm around her stomach. She closed her eyes, laying her arm on his.

"Ich liebe dich…" he whispered again. She could hear the tears in his voice.

She squeezed his hand but said nothing. She didn't trust herself to speak. He was shaking, though slightly. He was scared. She closed her eyes, rolling onto her other side, facing him, and wrapped her arm around him, cuddling under his chin. She smiled slightly when he kissed her hair, rubbing her back.

"Do you still love me…?" he whispered, trembling. He hated asking. He hated being so afraid of her leaving. Everyone left. He couldn't lose her too.

She nodded, still saying nothing, giving his side a gentle squeeze. She closed her eyes, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

* * *

A/N: Lithuania and Latvia talk about important things in the beginning, but most of this chapter is Cort telling Eva about the countries and what he's lived through. So many of the characters have lived through hell at this point. And Cort may seem quite needy... but considering everything that's happened to him... I'm not mad at him for it, and neither is Eva. Her knowledge about the countries is going to be important, so rest assured I'm not just going off talking about OCs... but I really do love these characters. I write real-novels too, and character creation is fun for me. I don't think Eva, who's lived a pretty normal life up until this point, reacted strongly to all she heard. In fact, I think she took it rather well... but get getting a bit angry seems to fit to me. She doesn't just stay this perfect happy person all the time. She's genuinely shocked, and it may be a while before she's ok again, especially ok talking to Ludwig... Lots of set up in this chapter. I know what Cort said is all stuff you already know, but I still think it feels different hearing it from his perspective. Also some exposition on country rules.

This is one of the chapters when the histoy-squishing shows up again. Cort is WAY too young to have been alive in WWII if the timeline was played straight. It's a bit wibbly wobbly in this story... but more Wibbly. I didn't really move thing around as much as condense them... kinda? So... hand waving some of the timiing issues here. XD

To answer a guest's question, and perhaps some other confusion, yes, I do like the idea that Germany was HRE before, but doesn't remember it. Only bits and pieces. That's why he dreams about it sometimes. But it feels distant to him, like it's not him, but it is...? I hope that makes sense. I think it makes him feel closer to his brother to see him so long ago, even in a dream, but it's also confusing to him. This will be an ineteresting topic of discussion for him and Gil later. Because he's going to be asking a few questions.

Thank you again for all the reviews! I know some of my story ideas may seem strange or out of place, but trust me. Things are going to fit together, even if it doesn't quite all make sense now. :) I know I was pretty bad about replying to comments last round, but I'm going to be better again! I really do love replying to reviews! :D I love talking to you guys about this story... getting ideas... etc! More to come soon! We inch ever closer to the moment-you've-all-been-waiting-for! And then more after that! :) Thank you again for the reviews! Tonight I made Lentil soup, so I will share with all of you! And hot cocoa made with real chocolate, or hot mulled apple cider! Your choice! I like adding Cinnamon sticks, Star Anise, and Cloves to my Apple Cider. What a treat! How about you guys?


	86. Chapter 86: Interrogation

Chapter 86

Gil walked through the familiar double doors, through the familiar lobby, up the familiar stairs, and into the familiar room. He slipped a tip, much higher than it should have been, into the boy's hands as he left his luggage inside the room.

He sighed slowly, looking up at the dusty tan walls, the only thing constantly the same in the room. The furniture was different, updated, more modern. There was a new television that he didn't intend to use, a new desk with a phone, a new table and chairs, and new electric blue curtains. He pushed them back from the window, looking down at the street below. His eyes followed the long black road that started to disappear as it ran away from the hotel, leading towards the edge of the city. He sighed, the thin dark line across the horizon closing the city from the outside world. He sighed again, turning away from the window and looking at the bed. He let himself fall onto it, swinging his legs up over the cover without bothering to take off his boots. He rolled to his side and brought the pillow over his face. He hated the room. He hated everything about the room. Everything about what had happened inside the room.

He sat up suddenly, staring down at the carpet. It had been replaced with a new color. He glanced at the space between the bed and the wall, wondering if the bloodstains from Cort's gunshots to his chest had made the re-carpeting decision an easier one.

He kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he lay back in bed, trying to think about nothing. Trying to get his mind to shut up about everything in general. His fingers twitched involuntarily. He sighed, glancing towards his suitcase, shaking his head. He could wait a few more hours. He had to. He didn't have much, and he was going to make it last. He looked back at the ceiling.

A very faint click hit his ears, and his hand was at his hip instantly, the gun raised towards the person standing in the doorway. He didn't look.

"Verzieh dich (very strong 'Get lost')," he snapped, still not looking. He expected to hear someone burring out of the room, but the person stepped closer, "I said: LEAVE."

"Not until I talk to you."

Gil sat up instantly, lowering his gun, "Schulz…" He stood, but kept his gun ready at his side.

"Hallo," Schulz said simply.

Gil stared into the man's face. He wasn't a boy anymore. Scrambled mental calculation brought him to almost 30. He looked older. He instantly noticed the civilian clothes: simple, unimpressive, and no color, just black or grey. The tiniest flicker of a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he saw the military boots. He looked up into the dark, worn eyes again, forcing himself not to turn away.

"Hallo," Gil replied finally. It felt like more than seconds had passed.

Schulz said nothing.

Gil could almost feel the other man's eyes staring into his soul. He looked away. He didn't want him to see it. He watched as Schulz opened his suitcase, pulling the small leather case out of the familiar pocket in the side. Gil sat back on the bed, bringing his right hand to his forehead, sliding it down to pinch the bridge of his nose with a sigh. He caught the small case as it hit his shoulder. He looked up at Schulz again. The disappointment in his eyes stung.

"Say something…" Gil whispered, bringing his hand to his face again.

"Like. What?"

"I don't know, like why are you here? What do you want?" Gil looked up at him again, almost snapping the words.

"You almost got me killed, Gil!"

"You survived. Congratulations, most humans who stick around me don't last a week," Gil rolled his eyes, flopping back on the bed. He hadn't expected Schulz to reply to that and wasn't surprised when he didn't. He heard the other man cross the room and sit in the chair near the desk.

"Do you want me to apologize?" Gil broke the silence.

"I wouldn't expect it," the man's voice was heavy, sad. Gil didn't like it.

"Then why are you here?" Gil asked, looking up at him again.

Schulz sighed, not looking at the white-haired country, "I need your help."

"You what?" Gil sat up, staring at Schulz, "You want me to help you? After what… Believe it or not, I don't actually want to get you killed!"

Schulz shook his head, "It's not for me… it's for my brother."

Gil froze, "Your brother…?"

Schulz nodded, "My little brother… he's in trouble…"

"It must be a lot of trouble…" Gil's voice was quieter, trying to shake off the memories of Luddy crying from fear in the back of his mind.

Schulz nodded, "He… he was trying to dig under the wall."

Gil closed his eyes, sighing deeply, "How bad is it?"

"Bad…" Schulz said, still not looking at Gil, "He's been captured…"

Gil swore, bringing his hand to his head again, rubbing at the tension at the back of his neck.

"They shot two of the others with him, and a few got away. My brother's the only one they have."

"They're going to want names from him," Gil shook his head. It had to be Schulz brother. It had to be the life of someone close to someone he owed a life too. It had to be something he couldn't get out of.

"You told me you're the best interrogator in the GDR," Schulz looked at Gil for the first time since sitting down, "Can you get to him?"

"Sure. That's the easy part… I assume you want me to get him out?" Gil shook his head. Why wasn't he saying no? He couldn't get himself to say no.

"You owe me."

Gil rolled his eyes, standing. He didn't have an argument, so he didn't try and make one. He picked up the leather case from the floor and brought it towards his suitcase.

"If it was your brother… wouldn't you do anything you could to help him?"

Gil closed his eyes, images of his brother tied to a chair, a knife to his chest, and RAF's voice threatening him ringing in his mind.

"Ja. I would…" Gil didn't move, keeping his hands on the sides of the suitcase, looking down at the leather case.

"I'm not strong enough to help my brother, Gil. My lungs are wrecked. After what you…" he stopped himself, taking a deep, shaking breath, "After what happened. I can't run, Gil. I can't. I can barely walk for more than a few minutes. That's… that's why I had to leave. I'm useless to the military now. Honestly, I'm pretty useless in general… so… I… I can't get him out. I'll do whatever I have to, kill whoever I have to, but…"

"But you're going to need help…" Gil sighed deeply again. Heinrich's words stung. He'd had swords and bullets go through his lungs plenty of times, but he healed. He looked back at Heinrich, closing his eyes again. He couldn't look at him. He could still see him lying on the concrete floor, not answering, not looking at anything, his eyes glazed over.

"Gil…?"

Gil turned opened his eyes. He hadn't realized how long it had been since he'd spoken, "I thought you were dead…" he whispered.

Schulz looked down for a moment, then back into Gil's face, "This is about my brother. I don't… my brother can't die. Trust me, if I could think of anyone else I would have gone to them… but, I can't. I need your help."

"Why? Because I can't die?" Gil snapped, picking up the leather cast and opening it slowly.

"Because, d****it, I still trust you!"

Gil froze again, turning to look at him? He shook his head, "So you are as dumb as you look."

"I'm not the one with red eyes."

"Hey!" Gil snapped.

"Are you helping me or not?"

"And what if I did? What if I did get him out? What if I get him away from the government? What if I get him back to you? At this point they know he's your brother, I'm surprised you haven't been brought in yourself. Do you really think life goes back to normal? If he's an escaped prisoner, they'll find him!"

"You do remember I was a Stasi officer, don't you? I'll-"

"Yes, and if I remember it, so will they!"

"What do you want me to do? Just let them torture him to death? Throw him in prison somewhere?"

"No," Gil shook his head, looking down at the drugs, taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

Schulz shook his head "You're going to help my brother high?"

"No, but I don't want to help him in withdrawal do I?"

"We know what happens then, don't we?"

Gil ignored the comment and picked up one of the syringes, starting to prepare the drugs carefully, "So, we do need to talk about a plan. A strategy?"

"I have a few ideas, if you're able to listen," Heinrich's voice was cold again.

Gil nodded, bringing the band around his arm.

…

"All the recorders have been removed?" Gil stood straight, staring into the face of the guard at the door.

"Yes, sir," the guard nodded, not looking at Gil.

"Good. You won't be needed at the door. I'll call you when I'm finished," Gil entered the room alone, closing and locking the door behind him as he watched the guard leave down the hallway. He turned around, looking down at the man before him across the table. His face was thin and hallowed, but his eyes were very much like his brother's, except there wasn't sadness, there was anger. Gil scanned the room for anything that might be recording them. He saw nothing. He wasn't convinced. He walked around the table slowly, saying nothing, just watching the young man. He could see the man's hands shaking, but he clenched his hands into fists and showed no more signs of fear.

"I'm not going to tell you anything!"

"I haven't asked you anything yet, Johann Schulz."

"Well, I'm not saying anything."

"You're saying quite a lot, actually," Gil smirked. It wasn't a real interrogation, but if it was, it would be easy. He continued standing behind Johann, looking down at him. He tried to weigh the value in getting the names out of the young man. They would be done with him, and he might be rewarded for his cooperation, set free. Schulz wouldn't like it, but it would work. He wasn't sure it was a bad option, but it felt like betrayal.

"Well?" Johann snapped, "Get it over with. If you're going to hit me, go for it!"

Prussia raised an eyebrow, his smile growing a little.

"Say something!" Johann swore.

Prussia half laughed, amused. He liked this kid. He leaned in, speaking into the young man's ear, whispering in case all the recorders hadn't been removed. He doubted they had.

"Your brother sent me,"

"What?"

"Shut up. Don't screw this up. I'm going to get you out of here."

"What…?" Johann whispered back, turning his head to look towards Prussia.

Prussia slapped him, hard.

"Hey, you can't-"

Prussia grabbed his face roughly, whispering in his ear again, "Don't! speak. If you want to get out of here, you're going to play along."

Johann nodded slowly.

"Good. Now… I'm going to get you out of here…"

"I'm not giving you any names!" Johann struggled, pulling his face away from Prussia.

"We do this the easy way, or the hard way, your choice," Prussia snapped. Johann reminded him of someone else he knew, and it was more than a little obnoxious.

"I don't trust you…" Johann shook his head.

Prussia sighed. He figured they'd already offered freedom in exchange for the names. He still thought that would be easier, but he understood. To betray his friends to be killed… he could understand. He sighed again, walking to stand in front of Johann, moving the table out of his way.

"All right. We'll do this the hard way."

…

The military doctor lifted Johann's face, feeling his pulse on his neck after wiping away some of the blood.

Prussia glanced at his new boss, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Usually you don't use such… bloody methods, Beilschmidt."

Prussia smirked, "I have my moments."

His boss shook his head with a sigh, "Doctor?"

The doctor turned back to the group of officers, "He'll need a hospital if he's going to survive."

Prussia heard his boss give a long, frustrated sigh. It made him nervous. He needed to get Johann to that hospital. He could handle a few guards at the door.

"Did he give you anything?"

Prussia shook his head, "He didn't give me names-"

"Then finish it," his boss nodded to the gun on his hip.

Prussia shook his head again, "I said he didn't give me names. I have good reason to believe this is bigger than we first thought. I would send someone back to that tunnel and take him to a hospital. I'm not done with him."

Gil's boss sighed, annoyed, "You will go with him, Beilschmidt. I want him well protected. And get me that information."

Prussia nodded, holding back the smile that threatened to creep onto his face. He didn't expect to be sent along. He hoped that meant it would be a little easier. He watched his boss leave with some of the other officers and walked up to the doctor.

"So?"

The doctor shook his head, "His ribs are broken, and his nose… I'm a bit worried about his lungs if there's a puncture… We're done talking about this, we need to get him into a hospital," he snapped, nodding towards the door as it opened. Several men walked in, rolling in a narrow bed to carry him out.

Prussia watched, keeping the smile off his face. He might actually be able to pull this off.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this took so long guys. It took me a bit to find a mini-plot here. So, Schulz is back, and Prussia has to help him. And betray his new boss in the process... hm...

Addressing a reader question about Bavaria being a girl... So... consider it bad research. I didn't know there was a canon character for Bavaria, who's a guy (forgive me! It was such a small part guys... *sigh*) so, I took inspiration from an ACTUAL personification character for Bavaria from actual Bavarian festivals and stuff, and that character is a redheaded female. And she's sassy and cool, so I made her younger, but took inspiration from that. So... that's where Bavaria being a girl comes from. It now annoys me to know that there's a canon character that I genderswapped, but I still REALLY like Gil interacting with a female older sister and them having this sarcastic love/hate relationship... so I'm not currently planning on rewriting her as a guy... I hope it doesn't completely ruin this for everyone. (besides... more female presence needed in general...) she probably won't show up often, but I do plan on using her in at least one more chapter. But hopefully, you guys will forgive me for that. I have tried to follow both canon and historical details carefully in other respects...

Thank you all for the reveiws! Again, so sorry this took so long! I LOVE reading your reviews! And hmm... well... it's almost thanksgiving here in America, so thanksgiving treats for you all! (pumpkin pie. I will give you all pumpkin pie!)


	87. Chapter 87: Favorite

Chapter 87

 _Giant double doors opened to the hall, the most powerful of the eastern nations standing with their governments and courts down the long carpet that lead to Russia and his Tsarina. Lithuania stood straighter, walking with a guard on either side of him slowly up to the throne. The embroidered belt around his waist glittered as the gold threads caught the light, the detailing on the cuffs of his sleeves making his clothes distinct from all others in the room. He wore a dark plaid vest, also detailed with embroidery, as well as the dark tan pants, and his hair was tied back from his face with a heavily detailed ribbon. It was traditional instead of fashionable. He was proud of his country, and he wanted everyone to see that._

 _He glanced at Prussia as he walked past the white-haired nation. He'd lost. He'd lost to Russia and Prussia. They'd divided his land, 10% to Prussia, the rest to Russia. He hadn't been at the meeting to decide his fate: if they would let him keep anything of his culture, if Russia was going to own him and his people, and if they would leave him alive._

 _He looked up at Russia and his Tsarina as they reached the end of the long room. He kept his eyes on Ivan, his head held high. He resisted the urge look around the room, setting his jaw and standing tall._

 _A man's voice, reading from a large paper, told of the decisions made behind closed doors._

 _"_ _Lietuva, from this moment forward 90% of your current land belongs Russia. The rest is given to the great nation of Prussia."_

 _Lithuania nodded slowly, glancing at the white-haired nation again, then back up at Russia._

 _"_ _Therefore, you, Toris Lorinaitis, are to live at Russia's house from this moment forward."_

 _Lithuania took a deep breath, nodding slowly again, looking into Russia's face. The childlike smile he saw there made his stomach turn. He would survive this. He would come back from this, and he would be a great nation again._

 _"_ _All symbols and traditions associated with Lithuanian culture are, from this moment forward, banned."_

 _"_ _Ne-" Lithuania's words were cut short as he was forced to his knees by the guards. The ribbon was torn from his hair, and his vest and belt were ripped off as he was thrown forward onto his hands, the rest of his shirt stripped from him, shredded by brutal hands that kept him down. He looked up at Russia, hatred flashing in his eyes. He felt sick, the cold air in the room hitting his bare back and chest, sending shivers down his shaking arms. He refused to look at anyone but Russia._

 _He spoke in his own language, "You can't do thi-" his words were cut short as a gloved hand struck the side of his face._

 _"_ _The Lithuanian language is, from this moment forward, banned in all forms."_

 _"_ _Rusija, Ne… Pr-" his words were stopped again, this time by the butt of a rifle. He said nothing, keeping his head down, shaking with rage, his cheek throbbing with pain._

 _"_ _From this moment forward," the voice continued, "You are to be known as Northwestern Krai. The name Lietuva is, from this moment forward…"_

 _No…_

 _"_ _Banned."_

 _Toris closed his eyes, keeping his head down, biting back the tears. He winced as his head was pulled up by his hair and both arms held back firmly by the guards. He looked into Russia's face, a single tear spilling over his cheek. He watched as Russia walked down the steps slowly, glancing back at Catherine with a light bow before continuing down until he faced Toris._

 _"_ _What is your name?" Russia asked, his voice was like ice, but that sickening smile still curled on his lips._

 _"_ _Lietuva," he winced as Russia's hand struck his face, harder than the guards could ever manage to hit. He licked the blood off his lip and turned to face Russia again._

 _"_ _What is your name?" Russia asked again, his voice even less gentle than before._

 _"_ _Lietuva…" he whispered, earning him another strike, his head snapping to the side with the force of it. He looked at Prussia for a moment, trying to see if there was anything in the other nation that wanted this to stop. Nothing._

 _"_ _What. Is. Your. Name."_

 _"_ _You're calling me-" Toris winced hard as Russia grabbed his face, turning it towards his own._

 _"_ _Answer in Russian or you won't talk for a week."_

 _Toris nodded slowly again, looking down._

 _"_ _What. Is. Your. Name?"_

 _"_ _Meenya zavoot, Krai (my name is Krai)" Toris whispered, looking up at him._

 _"_ _Da," Russia smiled, pushing the dark hair out of the smaller nation's face, "Khorosho."_

 _Toris kept his head down, not looking up at Russia. The guards pulled him to his feet on Russia's order. He looked up again, very slowly, into Russia's face, still wearing that smile. He licked the dripping blood from his lip again, his arms shaking with fear and anger. The guards released his arms and he fell back to his knees, too weak from all he'd lost to stand._

 _"_ _You're part of Russia now," the tall nation smiled, his violet eyes glittering, "Not a prisoner. Come, stand beside me here," Russia motioned next to himself with a smile._

 _Lithuania looked up at him, trying to drag himself to his feet. He looked around the room at the other nations and their courts. No one said anything. No one did anything. He didn't even see any emotion on their faces. He pressed his arms into the ground, slowly, slowly standing. He forced one foot in front of the other onto the stairs, his legs giving out as he fell onto his side. He looked up at Russia again, using the last of his strength to stand again, dragging himself to the space beside Russia, trying to hold his head high._

 _"_ _Very good…Myshka," Russia smiled._

 _…_

 _"_ _No!" Lithuania shook his head, "No I can't… can't…. America, I can't… please… please…" he tried to stop his hands from shaking, "Please don't make me stay with him…" he begged, falling to his knees._

 _"_ _Look, Toris, I don't really have a choice here…I… Russia was the one who helped you in the war… I… I'm sorry…. I'm really sorry, I don't like it either… but…"_

 _"_ _After what Germany did to me, you can't… please… please don't make me stay with Russia…"_

 _"_ _Latvia and Estonia are going to…"_

 _"_ _No…" Lithuania shook his head, leaning into his hands, shaking, "No he can't… please…." He felt America kneel beside him, and put his arms around his back. He shook his head, leaning against his friend's shoulder, "Please…"_

 _America said nothing, but squeezed his friend's shoulders gently, "I'll get you back. I promise I won't let him keep you forever. I'll do something…"_

 _"_ _You…" Lithuania looked up, but not at America, "You're going to war, aren't you?"_

 _America nodded slowly, "Yeah… yeah probably."_

 _"_ _Don't die."_

 _"_ _I'm the hero remember?" America smirked._

 _Lithuania looked over at him with a sad smile and nodded._

 _"_ _Toris…" America's voice was more serious again, "Toris how bad is it going to be…?"_

 _Lithuania shook his head, "He… America he changed… after the revolution…" he shivered. Russia had never been kind, but at least before his beatings had a reason. Toris doubted they would now, "It… I…." he turned, looking into America's face, "I would rather die, America."_

 _America closed his eyes with a sigh._

 _Lithuania stood, dusting himself off from the ground. He looked straight ahead at the conference room door. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and walked forward, opening the door slowly. Russia was standing in the hallway, waiting for him._

 _"_ _Litva!" the man smiled, pulling him into a painfully tight hug, "I'm so glad you're all right from the war. I was so worried about you, Myshka. You will come home now. You will be safe again, da?"_

 _Lithuania looked up at him, trembling badly, "Da…" he whispered._

Lithuania pulled his shaking hands away from his face, looking out of the window in front of him. The snow was melting, patches of green showing around the dirty white slush. He could see flowers just starting to peek through the ground, breaking free from the icy cold. Spring. May…

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He looked down at his hands, the soft evening light glowing warm against his skin. He traced the scars on his right wrist. So many scars… He looked up at the window again, then stood, closing his eyes again. Slowly he loved over his shoulder at the door. The mirror caught his eye. A tall, standing mirror he had turned to face the wall. He exhaled slowly, looking back up at the door. Slowly, he stepped through it and down the long hallway towards Russia's room and office. He walked slowly, noticing every crack in the old doors of the other's rooms, the chipping paint along the very tops of the walls near the ceiling. He stopped in front of Russia's door, hesitating before knocking.

 _Belarus threw her arms around his neck with a beaming smile as they ran into their room._

 _Lithuania smiled at her. She was so beautiful, with a crown of roses in her long blonde hair, her smile beaming through her clear blue eyes. He picked her up by her waist, spinning her around before letting her down slowly on the bed, smiling down at her before leaning in to kiss her as she wrapped her fingers in his hair._

 _…_

 _He kept his eyes on her face, and the painful hatred he saw in her eyes._

 _"_ _He was right, you're my weakness. Because of you, I'm not strong enough. He was right. Every time he hurt you he was right. You deserved it. You're weak. I know what's wrong with me, Toris. I know what's wrong: you. I don't need you anymore…"_

 _Her words burned. She couldn't mean it. She couldn't mean that…_

Lithuania sighed. He had barely seen Belarus since. And he hadn't spoken to her. He looked up at the door and knocked.

Russia's voice called out for him to enter.

Lithuania tried to calm the knot in his stomach that he knew would try to keep him from speaking. He opened the door, walking in slowly.

"Litva," Russia smiled, looking up as the dark-haired man walked into the room.

Lithuania forced himself to smile back, slightly relieved to see Russia was in a good mood. He looked at the stack of papers on his desk, and the empty bottle of vodka beside it on the floor.

"You've been drinking…" Lithuania didn't know what else to say.

Russia nodded, "Da. It's been a long day. Vodka is a good cure for long days, da?"

Lithuania nodded, less out of agreement than politeness.

"You look nervous, Litva," Russia's voice was concerned. He motioned towards the chair across the desk from his own.

Lithuania stepped towards the chair, sitting down for less than a second before standing again, "I… I can't… I…" he looked into Russia's face. Into those violet eyes. He looked away. He wanted so badly to hate him, but he couldn't. He let a long silence pass, not looking at Russia, keeping his eyes fixed on the window.

"Litva what's-"

"Why am I your favorite?" Lithuania cut off Russia's words, turning to look at the giant county.

Russia leaned back, surprised, "I…"

"Why did you take me back from America? Why? After Germany was done with me, why did you take me back?" He kept his eyes on Russia's watching for any hint of anger, any sign that he should back away. He saw only shock.

"I was afraid for you. Germany nearly killed you, I needed to protect you Litva…"

"Protect me from what!? Germany lost, the war was over! Why did you bring me back here… please… why…?"

"Because I can take good care of you, Litva, because-"

"200 years ago why did you leave me alive?"

"What?" Russia asked, standing.

Lithuania took a step back, studying the man's eyes. He still saw no anger in them, "You took everything. You took everything from me, you took my land, my culture, my language… you even took my name… why didn't you just kill me…? Why? Why didn't you kill me?"

"Litva what's gotten into you…?" Russia walked towards him, his voice just slightly colder, but still full of concern.

"I want to know…" Lithuania whispered, taking another step back away from Russia.

Russia said nothing, looking down into the bright green eyes looking up at him. He hadn't noticed the pain before. "Toris… you… you do like it here…Da?"

Lithuania closed his eyes with a sigh, looking away.

"You're my friend, aren't you…?"

Lithuania didn't answer, looking up at Russia again. He pulled away suddenly as he felt Russia's hand on his shoulder. He was brought to his knees instantly by an iron grip on his arm. He looked up at Russia, trembling, not daring to pull away.

Russia let go, looking down at Lithuania, an expression of confusion on his face again, "You hate me…"

Lithuania sighed, standing. He shook his head slowly, "Nyet. I don't hate you… but…" he took a deep breath, "Russia… after the war… you just took me. You just took me here… I…" he shook his head again, "You've beaten me, you've starved me, you've tortured me and the people I care about, and…" he stopped himself, closing his eyes for a moment again. He looked up into Russia's face again, "Why am I your favorite?"

Russia said nothing for a long time, just staring into Lithuania's face. "Because you always forgive me… no matter what you always forgive me. You always come back… you… you always forgive me."

Lithuania closed his eyes, biting back the choke in his throat. He wanted to hate Russia. He needed to hate Russia. He needed to for his own safety, but he couldn't. "I don't hate you…" he whispered, "I've seen what you hide with that scarf too many times… I've seen you cry… I've seen how badly it hurt when they… when they died… I was there on Bloody Sunday when you…" he shook his head, he didn't need to remind Russia of that. The memory still stung, and still terrified him, "I remember when you were just a little boy, covered in bruises from a monster you called 'father', hiding in the snow, just trying not to cry…"

"Litva, stop…" Russia looked away.

"I can't hate you…" Lithuania sighed, his voice distant. He glanced out the window again, smiling faintly as he saw a tiny yellow flower trying to push through the green leaves holding it back. He turned to look up at Russia again, "I'm leaving Russia."

"What?" Russia's voice was shocked instead angry.

"I said: I'm leaving, Russia…"

"I won't let you! You're not allowed to leave!" Russia's voice grew hot with anger as he reached for Lithuania's wrist.

"You can't stop me now… you can't… you took my country illegally after the war… and I'm done. I'm leaving, Russia. I'm going home."

* * *

A/N: And we are now officially in May of 1989, and Lithuania is going to leave! He's going to work to leave now! YAY! Lithuania actually declared it's independence in May of 1989, making it actually the first country in the SU to do so if my research is correct. This also means we're officially in 1989, and you know what that means... but LITHUANIA STANDING UP FOR HIMSELF IS MY FAVORITE THING! Though... I find this scene so sad... there are certainly hints of Russia's possessiveness, but it's easing off quite a bit by now as he's getting better too... but Lithuania... the memories in the beginning, what Russia's done to him, taken from him... but he still forgives him. He always will. But he has to leave. And with Belarus gone... (and as we know, that was her plan, to leave him so he would leave...) he's going home.

Thank you so much for the reviews! And so quickly! This is getting super exciting and all the ideas are happening and updatings coming full speed ahead again! After all, this is the 2nd update today... XD Hmm... what treats for all of you... Pumpkin bars, and mashed potatoes (for you Penguin!) and all the yummy treats! What are your favorite Thanksgiving foods? Mine are definitely pumpkin pie and mashed potatoes and gravy!


	88. Chapter 88: Rescue

Chapter 88

Gil looked at Johan's face as the young man slept. He'd been careful. No lungs were punctured that they could see, and he was at the hospital only for the night. Gil sighed, turning to the window. They were on the 7th story. Even with a Nation's strength and healing, it wasn't a jump he'd want to make if he had any choice, and for a human it would be more than impossible. He shook his head. At least his new boss trusted him. There was only one other guard, and he was at the door. Gil didn't want to take him down, but he would if he had to. But Johan had to trust him first, and there wasn't time for that.

Gil shook his head with a sigh. What kind of mess did he get himself into this time? He'd made a promise he had no idea how to keep, and he had less than seven hours before he would need the drugs again. Leaving Johan's side wasn't something he planned to do. Too many people thought he wasn't worth keeping alive. He considered getting the names out of the kid again, but mentally kicked himself for it. It was the easy way, but it certainly wouldn't make Heinrich any happier with him, and that was something he wanted to avoid. He tried to ignore the guilty ache in his stomach.

He glanced up at the clock in the room. Almost midnight. He sighed again, standing and walking to the small switch that would alert the people at the desk that he needed something. He needed food. He knew the hospital wouldn't have a beer for him, but he would settle for food.

A nurse walked in. She had a pretty face with short blond hair, pinned back at side with fluffy bangs, and a little too much lipstick.

"Is there something I can do for you, Herr Beilschmidt?" She asked.

He nodded, "Food? Is there anything you have?"

"This late?" The nurse sighed, "I could get you a soda and sandwich from the vending machine? They had a few left the last time I checked."

"Ja, Danke," he nodded, leaning forward to rub his forehead.

"Are you all right, Herr Beilschmidt?" the nurse asked, gently concerned.

He nodded again, "Ja. Just a headache… I'll be fine." _As soon as I get the drugs…_ he kept to himself.

"I could bring you some Tylenol… coffee?"

Gil gave another nod, "Ja, that would be nice actually. It might take the edge off," he looked up at her smiling gently.

She smiled back, "I should check how he's doing while I'm here…" she walked to Johan's side, quickly but intentionally checking the monitors, "Well he's sleeping soundly, so that's good news. The pain medicine is working, and he's resting," she smiled at Gil again, "I'll get those things for you now."

"Danke," Gil smiled again, letting it fade as soon as she was out of the room. He hated how sick he felt. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs or nerves. He tried to tell himself it was the drugs, but he'd felt awful since November started. He didn't want to imagine being nervous enough to feel sick. He wasn't one of Russia's Baltics, he was stronger than that. The idea of getting in trouble wasn't supposed to scare him. He as doing this for a… friend. Someone he owed at least. He wasn't sure if Heinrich was a friend or not. They could have been, he tried to tell himself that, but then there'd been the almost getting him killed. Few things got in the way of friendship faster than almost getting someone killed.

Gil leaned forward again, pressing his forehead into his hand, trying to rub away the headache. He looked up suddenly as the nurse reentered the room. He glanced at the clock. He'd slept for almost 15 minutes. He tried to shake himself awake, looking up at the nurse with a soft smile as she walked closer to him, setting the food on the table next to him: Water, a soda, and a decently sized packaged sandwich.

"Danke," he smiled at her, noticing her hand brush the back of his shoulders as she walked behind him.

She smiled back, turning to look at him, "So, you must be pretty important…?" she motioned towards his jacket on the chair beside him, "How did you get so many pins? You're so young! You can't be much older than I am…"

Gil smiled, "No, probably not."

The nurse nodded, almost awkwardly, biting her lips into her mouth for a moment, before smiling again, dimples appearing on her cheeks, "Did I get you the right kind of soda?"

"Mhmm," Gil nodded, reaching back to the table to get the small bottle, opening it and taking a drink, "It's perfect, danke," he smiled at her again, amused to see her blush. "So," he glanced at her neck, "Who's the lucky man?"

"What?" she asked, pushing back nonexistent flyaways, her cheeks turning a much deeper shade of pink.

"Someone gave you that necklace, didn't they?" he motioned towards the entwined silver hearts around her neck.

"This?" she reached up to feel the piece, "Oh, no, my sister gave it to me," she smiled, trying to look down at the necklace, then back up at Gil with a shrug, "Not a guy…"

"Are you trying to tell me you don't have a boyfriend?"

She shook her head with another blush, "No…"

"I find that very hard to believe," he leaned forward, looking into her face with a tempting smile.

"Oh?" she shrugged again, her blush deepening again.

Gil nodded, "Of course!"

She bit her lip, shrugging again.

"You know…" Gilbert smiled, making a point of letting his eyes drift down from her face, then back up into her eyes, "I think they told you to… lock the door for the night? From the outside?"

She nodded, "Yes…?" she smiled too.

"Well," Gil motioned to Johan, still unconscious on the bed, "He's not going anywhere, and the guard at the door left a while ago… there's really no reason for it to be locked… don't you think? Besides… what if I…" he smirked, "Wanted to spend some time somewhere else…? I don't need to babysit someone confined to a hospital bed… do I?" He smiled to see her breath catch and her cheeks go red.

"I… I really shouldn't leave the door open…" she glanced behind her.

"Do you ever do things you shouldn't?" He smirked again, leaning back in his chair, watching her eyes drift down from his face this time.

She nodded, "Sometimes…" she bit her lip again.

"Leave the door open?"

She nodded again, "Ok…" she whispered, turning to the door again, "I… I work until 5 am… so…." She shrugged again with a smile, closing the door behind her, but not locking it.

Gil leaned back in his chair with a smile, turning to the food and eating quickly. He didn't have much time, less than three hours before it was 5 am, and the nurse who's name he hadn't asked and didn't care to, would know something was wrong. He looked up at the monitors. Johan was unconscious, but only through sedation. Gil immediately turned off all the meds they were giving him. Any pain would help wake him up. Then he waited, planned. He watched the clock, the door, the monitors, the hallway through the little window in the door… once Johan woke up he'd have to move fast. The nurses would notice the change and come into the room. He'd have to get him out quickly. He instinctively touched the gun on his hip. He didn't want to have to use it, at least not against any hospital staff, but he wasn't afraid to if he had to.

He returned to the chair, leaning back and waiting. He wasn't as tense as he thought he should be. The stress seemed minimal compared to every day at Russia's house. He at least had some control over this situation. And he had a gun. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to mentally rehearse his plan. It wasn't a great plan, but it would have to do. He just hoped he wouldn't have to shoot his way out of the building. He glanced up at the clock. It was 3:26 am. He took a deep breath. A little over an hour and a half for Johan to wake up.

Gil stood, slowly, and walked towards the bed. He looked down into Johan's face. He hadn't paid much attention before to how much he looked like his brother. A faint smile found its way to Gil's lips. He and his brother barely looked related at all, let alone like brothers. He smiled a little more. Ludwig was the handsome one, and always had been. Strong jaw, blonde hair, blue eyes, and much nicer skin… not weird translucent skin that hated sunlight just as much as the red eyes. The 'demon child' eyes Gil wasn't sure if he liked or not. It'd been centuries but he still hadn't decided. He didn't mind being different, looking like absolutely none of the other countries, that didn't bother him. It was the reactions he got from his eyes that he didn't like. He sighed deeply. The reactions were less violent in recent years, but… he tried to make himself understand that seeing eyes as red as his could be a bit unsettling at first.

His eyes traveled down Johan's body, surveying the damage he'd dealt. He'd been careful, precise. The hospital was less necessary than he'd led them all to believe. Johan could walk and breath just fine, albeit through more than a little pain. That Gil couldn't help. His eyes darted to Johan's again as he saw the young man's eyebrows press together in waking pain, then the blue eyes fluttered open. Gil immediately pressed his hand against Johan's mouth as the man opened it to cry out for help.

"Shut up," Gil snapped, "You're not supposed to be awake."

Johan's eyes were wide with fear, but he frowned with defiance.

Gil smirked. He liked this kid. "I'm going to move my hand," he explained, "And you're not going to make a sound. Is that understood? I'm on your side."

Johan raised an eyebrow, but nodded very slowly.

Gil removed his hand, ready to use it against Johan's face, and hard, if he tried anything.

Johan shook his head, "My side, huh?" he whispered harshly, wincing in pain, "Sure feels like it…"

"I'm sorry about all that, but I can get you out of here much easier than I could get you out of there. I told you that."

Johan nodded.

"You still don't believe me?"

Johan shrugged, "You've done a lot to prove it so far," he said sarcastically.

Gil would have been more amused if there was time, "We need to leave. You can walk," he said as fact.

"Oh really?" Johan asked again with a dry half laugh.

"Trust me. I didn't do anything that would stop you walking. I'm not stupid. That last thing I would need to help you escape is to have to carry you, now get up," Gil snapped the last few words.

Johan looked down at the needles in his arm and hand, motioning towards them.

Gil rolled his eyes, stepping forward and removing them quickly, pressing a tissue from a nearby box onto the vein in his elbow, "There, happy now?"

"Ow," Johan said simply, staring up at Gil, not at all impressed.

Gil half laughed again, "Get. Up." he snapped, more than a little fed up with Johan's sense of humor.

Johan obeyed, surprised he could stand.

"How bad is the pain?" Gil asked, trying to prove whose side he was on. It didn't actually matter and he didn't actually care.

Johan shrugged, "I've been through worse," he nodded, trying to sound tough.

"Mhmm," Gil said simply, not believing a word of it. He pulled out his gun and looked around the room, glancing out the window in the door.

"You do have a plan, right?" Johan asked, looking around the room for his clothes.

"What do you think I am, some amateur?" Gil snapped again, still looking out the window, "Small cupboard on the left. Top shelf."

"Hmm?"

"Your clothes," Gil rolled his eyes again with an annoyed sigh. Of all the idiots he had to rescue… He waited to turn until he heard the zipper of Johan's pants, "Ready?" he asked as the man pulled on his slightly bloody tee shirt.

Johan nodded.

"Ok," Gil sighed again, "I think it's only fair to warn you that I have a plan, but I didn't say it was a very good one," he shook his head, "We're meeting your brother. I know where, and I won't tell you yet. But getting out of here… we're walking out. Or… trying to. There's no good way out of here, but at least none of them will be armed."

"Security guards?"

"Hopefully we'll be gone by the time they realize something is wrong. Now, you're going to be confident, and calm," Gil nodded, slipping his hand, still holding his gun, into his left pocket. He kept his right hand at his side, "Now, let's go." He opened the door slowly, checking the hallway quickly before exiting the room with Johan. No one was there. They walked quickly. Gil tried to calm the pounding in his chest. He wasn't sure if it was nerves or if he needed another hit. It didn't matter. He glanced over at Johan, clearly seeing the pain in his face. He didn't have time to deal with that. They made it to the elevator and started down to the ground floor from the seventh. Gil traced his left index finger along the trigger guard in his pocket, taking a deep breath. If he needed to shoot it would be once they got to the ground floor. If there was security guards, if anyone saw the blood on Johan's shirt, if anyone had told about the door not being locked from the outside, if the nurse had called on him for what he'd tried to bribe her with, if she'd told his boss that something was out of the ordinary, if Heinrich's plan somehow was leaked about the rescue, if his men were onto him… he tried to stop his brain from thinking of all the possible scenarios, but the soldier in his head wouldn't shut up about it. Besides, it was good to be prepared.

The elevator door opened.

Prussia brought his gun to aim at the face of the security guard in front of him, "Move. Get out of our way, and maybe I won't kill you," he said calmly, quietly, looking into the terrified face of the young guard, the very young guard. Gil quickly estimated his age at barely 20, if that.

"W…what are you…?" the guard didn't move, staring at Johan's bloody shirt, "What's going on, sir?" he asked respectfully, seeing Gilbert's uniform.

"That doesn't concern you. What does, young man, is that you get out of our way, and you never speak of this again. Is that clear?"

"I… I don't think I can do that, sir…"

Prussia saw the man's right hand twitch towards the gun on his hip.

"Don't." he reemphasized the gun in his hand, "I will kill you before you touch it." He could feel Johan's eyes on him. He didn't care what the other man was thinking. He was getting him out of here, "Now, kid: _Move_."

"No, sir!" The young man reached for his gun.

Prussia sighed, firing the gun. He was dragging Johan out of the elevator before the body fell. He glanced at Johan quickly, not surprised by the complete shock he saw there.

"You… you just…"

"I'm not happy about it either," Prussia shook his head. "But I couldn't let him shoot you."

"Or you…"

Prussia glanced back at Johan again, surprised by the words, "Didn't think you cared that much."

"I don't know if I do anymore."

Prussia shrugged. Johan didn't have to like him. He wasn't doing this for him. He looked around at the front doors as the stopped running. He could hear voices of other guards in the distance. They would have heard the gunshot. Stupid kid. He looking into Johan's face, putting his hands on the young man's shoulders, "I need you to trust me."

"O…ok…" Johan shrugged.

Prussia nodded, "Your brother said it was a meeting spot that only you would know. He said to tell you the words 'Little Red', do you know what that means?"

Johan nodded, his eyes lighting up with realization.

"Good. You're going to go there alone. Now. Run, and run fast. I don't care if it hurts. I don't care if you can barely breathe when you get there. Just run. Go around the back, don't let anyone see you. You're not new to hiding and spying. Use that. Go. Now!" Prussia half shoved him out the door, turning to face the security guards himself, hoping his uniform would at least give them second thoughts about just shooting him. He wasn't afraid of it, but it wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his morning.

He didn't raise his gun, slipping it back into his belt, holding his hands up. He wasn't trying to run away. They could return him to his boss, who'd probably return him to Russia, who'd probably beat the life out of him, not that he cared anymore. He closed his eyes as the footsteps got closer. He wasn't going to enjoy this.

* * *

A/N: I'm alive! ;) Here's another chapter! And I'm already halfway done with the next one, so expect that soon too Yay! Sorry it took so long! The holidays and such have been busy, then I had strep throat, then I got asked to speak at a convention about cosplay (which I enjoy so very much!) so I've been swamped! But here you guys go! Hoping uploading schedule will speed up a bit again. We're REALLY getting to some very exciting stuff coming up so soon! VERY exciting! :D :D :D

Anyway, Gil successfully rescues Johan and buys him time by staying behind... now what will his boss do...? hmmm... this boss is nicer of course than his previous one, but he certainly won't be happy. Also, Gil's methods during the rescue were... questionable, at best. He's not a 'good man', and he's ok with that. I find that kind of character interesting. But yet it's those kinds of things that he knows make him like Russia, which he hates to think about, and also what's causing him so much trauma... *Sigh*

Thank you all for the reviews! And thanks to the guest who complimented my OCs! I write real-life books too (historical fiction, none published yet...) and so I really enjoy good character development. I try to work hard on it! Love to you all! Thank you for still reading faithfully after over 2 WEEKS (ahhhhhhhhhh!) I'll update soon! :)


	89. Chapter 89: November 9th 1989

Chapter 89

Prussia scrambled to his feet as he was shoved into his hotel room. He immediately went for the handle of the door as he heard it lock from the outside.

"HEY!" He slammed the side of his fist against the door, "Let me out!"

No reply.

Prussia swore loudly to whoever was listening, then growled a few more as he turned to his bed, flopping onto it and bringing his hands to his aching head. He practically ripped off his military jacket, throwing it on a hanger as he stood to address the pounding in his chest and the ache in his stomach. He unzipped his luggage the pulled out the little leather case, taking the same dose as the day before. He would ease off more tomorrow. He didn't want to deal with it now. He sighed deeply in relief, rolling his head back, stretching his sore neck. Hospital chairs were less than comfortable. He smiled, the high completely invading his mind. He pulled the needle from his arm and tossed it, replacing the syringe in the case almost tenderly, zipping it in and slipping it into the hidden pocket on his suitcase once again.

He glanced back at the bed and smiled again. Sleep sounded wonderful. Dreamless sleep. He pulled off his undershirt, not bothering to fold it, and stepped towards the bed. He stopped, looking back at the shirt draped over his luggage. He turned back and folded it properly, placing it in the suitcase. Now he could sleep. He laid down, not bothering to take off his boots, and rolled to his side, wrapping his arms under the pillow and burring his face in it. He laughed a little, not sure what was exactly so funny. It didn't matter.

A knot twisted in his stomach. He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge it, trying to ignore it into nonexistence. Throwing up was less than pleasant, and he didn't want to get up. It was from the drugs. It had to be. It felt different. He wasn't sure, his mind to cloudy to think. He didn't feel nauseous, just… nervous? He tried to think, trying to piece together why. He knew Johan had escaped, they'd told him that much, angrily yelling in his face about it. That had been fun. He knew his brother was doing well… he shook his head. He couldn't be worried about anything. He couldn't be. He wasn't afraid of them telling Russia, he'd expected it.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He was missing something. There had to be a reason. Something with his country? He couldn't figure it out. He glanced out the window. It was late evening. He'd spent the day being interrogated by just about everyone his boss could think to throw at him. He shook his head again, trying to will away the feeling in his stomach. He glanced back at the nightstand, and the clock that sat on top of it then turned to the television. He turned it on, sitting back on the bed to watch. It was some kind of press conference. He sat back, annoyed. No one told him this was going on. He doubted they cared since he was locked in his room. They probably just didn't want him causing trouble. He'd been told they would 'deal with him later'. He figured that meant Russia, and that meant pain. He didn't care.

…

Germany smiled at Italy, who'd fallen asleep on his shoulder. The redhead had never been one for watching the news. Gently, Ludwig pried the sleeping man off him, helping him slowly rest against the pillows on the couch. He smiled at him again, just happy he was there. He hadn't expected him to come along to Berlin. Because of Cort's work in the government, he and Eva had been allowed to choose the hospital they wanted their twins to be born in, and they'd chosen Berlin. Germany hadn't exactly been surprised. It was Cort's home city, and the west side was safe. Safe and happy and bustling with industry and ingenuity. He'd been asked to come along to help with the preparations and just to 'be there'.

Germany sighed. Cort had asked. Eva had barely spoken to him for months. Not since she found out. She was polite, a little more than civil maybe, but he wouldn't go so far as friendly. It hurt, but he hadn't expected her to react any other way. Somehow the honest still felt right, even through the pain. He missed seeing her smile. But she and Cort were happy, and that was all that mattered.

Slowly, Germany stood, leaving the TV on in the background, and walked towards the small kitchenette in the hotel suite. It was late and he hadn't eaten since lunch. He hadn't intended to skip supper, but he'd gotten caught up with work. Italy had almost yelled at him for it. Almost.

Germany glanced back at Italy, still sleeping soundly on the couch. The redhead had insisted on coming along to Berlin, completely opposed to the idea of staying home when there were babies to be born soon. He seemed to believe that newborns were adorable. Germany wasn't sure, based on photos he'd seen. He'd never met a newborn in person. He paused for a moment, trying to think. Could he really 'meet' a newborn? it couldn't meet him back… it would be too small. He didn't think he'd ever been that small, not that he could remember. Nations weren't exactly 'born' like normal humans. He considered that he'd never actually asked how Nations are born… He shrugged. It wasn't really important.

Germany pulled a beer out of the fridge and set it on the countertop, turning to the small cupboard to look for some kind of snack, preferably a healthy one. Some nuts maybe? He glanced back at the TV, just to listen a little more.

…

Gil turned down the TV, standing again, walking to the fridge in the room and searching it for alcohol. He didn't have any left. He threw his head back with a frustrated groan and grabbed a bottle of water. He tried to tell himself he was too thirsty to care, but he wished it was beer anyway. He sat back on his bed and stared at the TV mindlessly, laughing at how silly everyone looked. He wasn't sure why they looked silly. He blamed the drugs.

Gil sighed deeply, picking up the remote and aiming it at the TV to turn it off so he could sleep. He stopped, caught off guard by a question from one of the reporters.

"…when does the law opening the borders go into effect?"

Gil stared, lowering the remote, shaking his head, "What kind of stupid question…" no one had talked to him about such a law. He rolled his eyes. "Idiot…" he lifted the remote again, waiting just one moment to hear the reply, his stomach tying in a knot again.

The man on the screen looked around, "As far as I know, immediately."

Gil froze. The pain in his stomach twisted into almost unbearable disbelief. His heart stopped like a bullet had gone straight through it. The world blurred, moving in slow motion as he stood and turned to the window. He looked right at the wall, and the people running towards it. His people.

…

Germany stared at the screen, frozen, his jaw dropping in disbelief. The reporters all clamored for more information, asking again and again if what he'd just said was true.

He dropped the small container he held and rushed to the door, practically tearing it open. He ran down the hallway as fast as he could, not willing to waste another second. It'd been too many years to waste seconds.

…

Gil threw himself on his knees in front of the nightstand, picking up the phone and calling his boss on his own private phone line. No answer. He tried again. No answer. He growled, his hands shaking, barely able to dial the number. It wasn't the drugs. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing. He tried again, begging, praying his boss would answer.

"Yes?" his boss answered finally, his voice almost nervous.

"Is it true. Please, God… are you actually…. opening the… " he couldn't say it. His tongue refused to shape the words.

There was a long silence.

"Yes. Yes, it's true."

Gil gasped again, his body unsure if it was going to scream for joy or break into sobs, "Let. Me. Out of here…" he whispered, his voice shaking almost too much to be understood.

"Gil, I can't do that yet, I-"

Gil dropped the phone, not bothering to hang up. He didn't care. He didn't need his bosses help. It didn't matter anymore. He turned to the door, slamming his fists against it, "HEY! LET ME OUT! SOMEONE!" he begged. No answer. She shook his head, grabbing the door handle, pulling it as hard as he could and shoving his body against the door, trying to break it down. It didn't move.

He swore loudly, his body almost panicking with excitement, his hands shaking too much to be useful. He grabbed a sweatshirt from the hanger in the open closet and ran to the window. He didn't care if he had to break it with his bare hands, he'd get out. He had to get out.

…

Germany looked up at the wall, his people all around him, cheering, shouting, calling for the wall to come down, for the guards to let people through. He looked at his watch. It had been almost an hour since the announcement had been made, and people were already trying to break through, pounding against the concrete with sledgehammers and shovels, picks, anything they could find, anything to help tear it to the ground. He looked down the line of people, down the giant wall of concrete. It was over. It was actually almost over.

He looked up at the wall again, and ran to it, slamming his fist into it, tearing at it with all the immortal strength he had. He didn't care if people saw it. He didn't care what kind of questions they might ask. He didn't care if his hands were torn to shreds by the end of the night. The wall was coming down if he had to break it himself.

…

Gil beat his fists against the locked window, shouting, swearing, screaming in frustration as his drug weakened body didn't have the strength to break the window. He crumpled to the ground, burying his head in his arms, trying to force the tears back. He could hear the people outside shouting, cheering, laughing. He stood, turning again to look out the thick clear glass. The guards were giving up. They were walking away. The towers were dark.

Prussia shook his head. He wasn't giving up. He looked around the room for something, anything he could use to help break the window. His eyes caught the lamp. He smiled, running to it, ripping off the shade and removing the bulb. He couldn't see where the cord was attached to the wall, but he didn't care, pulling it until it fell back, taking him with it to the floor. He scrambled to his feet and swung the heavy brass against the window as hard as he could. It shattered into a million pieces, glass flying everywhere, sharp pieces sticking up from the bottom. He used the end of the lap to break them, giving him a clear path through. It was a two-story fall. He didn't care, not bothering to give it a second thought before jumping. He landed on his feet with a wince. It hurt a little, but he didn't care and barely noticed. He just ran. As fast as he could, not bothering to stop as his breath barely kept up with his steps, his boot-clad feet barely touching the ground as he almost fell forwards with speed.

He didn't stop until he ran into the wall, pushing through the crowd of people. He looked down the concrete, trying to find a space to get through. He saw three young men working on a slab with sledgehammers. He ran to them, begging for a fourth hammer to use against the wall. They handed him a pick with a giant smile. It would do. He used all the strength he had left to slam it into the concrete, tearing it away in chunks, begging it to shatter into nothing.

Finally, a sliver started to open, quickly growing wider and wider. It was barely big enough to fit through, but he didn't care. He threw himself into it, pressing his body between the concrete edges, not caring as it scraped his arms and tore his sweatshirt and pants.

Gil stopped on the other side, looking at the death strip in front of him, and up at the towers. No guns, no bullets, no guards to keep him back. No orders to keep him back. No Russia to keep him back. He ran. Down the death strip that was just a road again. Across the rocky ground where he'd heard and felt so many people die. Imagines, names, sounds flashed through his mind. Memories of people and faces and everything else blurring his vision with tears he refused to cry.

 _._

 _"What about East?" Germany asked, almost hesitantly._

 _"East Germany is formally responsible for the war. He will be shown no mercy by this conference." America shook his head, glaring at Prussia._

 _Prussia kept his head up, looking straight ahead, not meeting America's eyes. He half waited for his brother to defend him, but he knew Ludwig was too smart for that. He closed his eyes with a sigh as Russia stood._

 _"Your brother," Russia walked around the table to Prussia slowly as he spoke, "Has agreed to come with me, in exchange for your freedom, West Germany."_

 _._

 _"Stop the car…" Prussia whispered, "Stop the car!" He turned to look at Russia. He wasn't sure if he was shocked, or angry, or both. He threw the door open before the car had stopped, running. He didn't care who saw him, or what they thought. He froze, looking straight ahead. "Nein…" He whispered, walking slowly towards the object of his horror. He reached forward and touched bare concrete. A giant stretch of concrete as far as he could see in either direction. A barrier dividing the city into east, and west. A wall. "No..."_

 _._

 _They ran. There was a long pause before bullets flew past them, one of them almost hitting the back of Prussia's jacket. They ran faster. Prussia moved Gisela to the side suddenly. A bullet hit his side. He ignored it, running faster, half dragging her along. Another bullet tore into his leg. He winced, stumbling for a moment._

 _"Gil!" Gisela stopped, turning back to him._

 _"KEEP RUNNING!"_

 _._

 _Latvia smiled, "Hun_ gary's going to to _… to let your people through…"_

 _Prussia froze, "What?"_

 _Latvia smiled, "She's going to let your your your people through. She's opening the b-borders to West Germany from her side… she's going to let let let let them go through…"_

 _._

Reality reinvaded his mind as he scrambled to climb up the wall, onto the top, onto the ledge. He stood for a moment, looking up at his brother's side of the city. He smiled. It was beautiful. The air felt cleaner somehow, crisper, more alive. He looked down at the crowd, scanning all the faces for his brother's. He ran along the ledge, trying to look for his brother, trying to watch the faces of all the people. All the joy in their eyes was infections. He could feel his people's hope again. All the pain, all the sorrow disappearing, the knot in his stomach giving way to unbridled joy. Joy he was allowed to feel. Hope he was allowed to feel again. And more than hope: reality.

Prussia jumped down from the wall, breaking through the people, calling his brother's name, asking if people had seen him, trying to describe him, trying to find him. He just had to find him. He shoved his way through the crowd, trying to think of some way, any way to find him. He just had to find his brother.

Prussia froze suddenly, his lips parting to speak, but the words weren't there. His brother. His brother was there, just a few meters away. Ludwig hadn't noticed him, and Prussia just stared at his brother. He looked so strong, so tall, so alive and so very much all right. Tears filled his eyes, refusing to be held back any longer.

"WEST!" He ran into his brother's arms, feeling strong hands wrap around his shoulders, and he broke, overwhelmed with joy he couldn't express any other way than tears. He gripped harder, rolling his fists around his brother's shirt, almost clinging to him. It had been so long. So long since he'd held his baby brother, so long since he'd felt his brother hold him as he was doing now. He could feel Ludwig's lungs heave with a sob, and feel his breath on his shoulder, shaking with relief. He forced himself to pull away, looking up into his baby brother's face. He touched his cheek, wiping away the tears he found there. He closed own eyes, more tears slipping down his own cheeks as he felt his brother's hand on his face too.

"You're alive…" Germany whispered, looking down into his brother's face. A face that was worn and tired like the body he held in his arms. A body so thin and weak it scared him. But alive. Alive and in his arms. Alive and with him again.

"I…" the words barely made it through Prussia's tear-choked lips, "I really missed you, kid…" he whispered, looking up into his brother's beautiful bright blue eyes, the sparkling hope inside them filling the deep ache in his chest. Then his brother smiled, and he lost it. He buried his face in Ludwig's shoulder, sobbing, breaking, letting his brother's arms wrap around his broken body. Letting his brother hold him as he was barely able to stand. He gripped Ludwig's shirt to keep his balance, thick, heaving sobs shaking through his lungs as he could barely breathe from tears. He wasn't ashamed of them. He didn't care who saw him cry. He didn't care who was watching. All that mattered was that Ludwig was right here, holding him and being held by him. It wasn't over, but for just a moment, everything was ok.

* * *

A/N: The chapter you've all been waiting for! It's been so long guys, SO LONG. Also... THIS IS NOT THE END! The story definitely isn't over yet! :) But the wall is down. This part is closing, and new challenges begin. But, as I said, for a little while everything is all right again, and Gil and Luddy are together! YAY!

Thank you so much for the reviews! I love reading them! And you all review so fast! *GIANT HUGS* extra hot cocoa and cookies and happiness for this one, guys. Thanks!


	90. Chapter 90: Changes

Chapter 90

Gil just watched his brother's face as Ludwig recounted story after story of success. How is country had come back after WWII on the west side of the wall, how he'd become one of Europe's best economies and was only getting stronger, and how he'd been forgiven. How America and France and England forgave him, and so did Italy. How they actually let him hang out with them, playing countless games of football together in teams of three or four, and had some great times together. Gil watched the hope that danced in his brother's eyes... and the joy. He felt tears start to prick in his eyes and fought to keep them back. He'd cried enough. He didn't want to cry anymore. He wanted to be happy. He wanted to finally be happy and to listen to the happiness that was his brother's life now.

Then Ludwig laughed.

Tears spilled over Gil's cheeks. He couldn't hold them back. He smiled through them as his brother's touched his shoulder. He brought his own hand to it, rubbing the skin on his brother's knuckles.

"Are you all right, Gilbert?" Luddy's deep voice asked so kindly, so gently.

Gil nodded, "I just… I missed you. It's nice to hear you laugh again…"

Luddy smiled back. He wasn't sure he believed that Gil was ok. He stared into his brother's eyes. He didn't like what he saw there. The pride was broken, the arrogance hidden behind pain. Deep, deep pain. He didn't take his eyes off his brothers, whispering gently, almost timidly, "What… what happened to you…?"

Gil closed his eyes with a heavy sigh, "I-"

"I finished the midnight snack, breakfast, snack… thing!" Italy popped his head around the corner of the hotel room where the living room was separated from the kitchen.

Gil turned, looking back over the edge of the couch and smiled to see Italy, "I didn't know you were here…"

"Well, when I saw you come in with Germany I didn't want to bother you! So I snuck into the kitchen and made you food! You're really skinny Prussia, you look should eat something," Italy said with a caring smile.

Gil almost jumped. He hadn't been called 'Prussia' since… he couldn't remember how long it had been, not anymore. He looked over at his brother, almost for reassurance that he was even allowed to accept the name. He hated feeling like he needed the reassurance.

Germany was too busy staring at Italy in shock to notice his brother's look of concern, "Italy! You can't just…" He sighed, pressing his fingers on the bridge of his nose and looking up at Gil again, "I'm sorry about-"

"It's ok," Gil laughed a little, looking back up at Italy, "Pasta-Brain's right, I am pretty hungry," he stood, stepping around the couch and towards the kitchen.

"Pasta-Brain…?" Italy looked up at Gil, worry in his face.

"Yeah. My favorite Pasta-Brain ever," Gil smiled, extending his arms for a hug.

"VE!" Italy hugged back tight.

Gil smiled, wrapping his arms around Italy's shoulders and pressing his cheek into the very soft red hair, "I missed you too."

Italy smiled, looking up at Gil with another smile, "You should eat before it gets cold." Italy sighed deeply, looking down and away for a moment, then back at Gil. He moved his arms from being wrapped around Gil's ribs, "You… You're really skinny Gil…"

Gil sighed, nodding slowly. He glanced back at his brother, who looked away. He knew he'd noticed. He was just trying not to say anything about it. Trying not to destroy the happiness they had. It didn't matter about him. Nothing mattered except being together again. He forced himself to smile and looked back at Italy.

"All right, well show me where the food is then!" he half laughed, letting Italy lead him to the kitchen. A small table sat in the room with four chairs, and it was covered in more food than Gil had seen in a month. He had to practically force himself to sit down slowly and not dive into the pile like a starving animal. He looked up to smile at his brother as he walked around the corner and sat down across from him at the table.

Ludwig smiled back at his brother, letting it fade as his brother turned his attention towards the food. He'd seen starving men before and he could just see it in the red eyes. Not quite starving, but very, very hungry. He watched his brother's eyes closer, the dark circles underneath them, the way his cheeks dipped into his face, and his lips were dry and cracked almost scared him. He looked down at his brother's arms. He could still see a hint of muscle, but nothing like what was there before. He remembered swinging from those arms as a child… they were nowhere near that strong anymore, he could clearly see that, even through the long sleeves. But the evidence of his brother being a soldier was still there. Still there in the way he walked, the way he sat up straight, the way he moved while he was speaking, even the way he ate. Ludwig smiled again to himself. His brother was still in there. He didn't want to think about what Russia must have done to him to drive it that far back, but it as still there.

"West?"

His brother's voice broke through his thoughts. He looked at him again, refocusing, "Ja?" he almost forced himself to smile, trying to be reassuring.

"You… um… are you ok?"

Ludwig just looked at Gil for a moment, into those broken red eyes. He nodded slowly, " _I'm_ ok."

Gil looked back steadily too. He nodded, "Me too…" he whispered. He wasn't sure if he was lying or not. Only he was sure. He knew he was lying.

"It's ok if you eat more, Gil," Italy grinned, breaking the painful silence.

Gil nodded, picking up his fork again. He nearly dropped it, barely catching himself. He looked down at his hands as they started shaking. He winced internally. Not now. This couldn't start again. Not now. He looked up at the clock in the kitchen. It was almost two in the afternoon. They'd talked all night and all morning. He tried to mentally calculate how many hours it had been since his last dose. Almost 18 hours. He wasn't surprised he was starting to feel it.

"Luddy…." he started, praying his brother wouldn't ask too many questions.

"Ja?" Germany looked up instantly.

"I… uh… I should go back. To my own hotel… I should… There's something I have to get… I'll come back if I can… and the wall's down, so… so we can be together… I promise."

"Gil if it's the…. drugs…"

"How do you know about that….?" Gil stared at him, shaking his head.

"Cort, he works for me now."

"What?" Gil smiled, a real, actual smile, "Cort works for you?"

Germany smiled back with a nod, "Ja. He's almost my right hand at this point… he just got married, we're here in Berlin because of his wife… they're going to have twins soon, very soon. The next few days."

"Cort's a… dad? What? WHAT?" Gil stared, still shocked, still smiling.

Germany nodded, "Yes he is."

"That… wow…" Gil shook his head again with a smile, then winced. He had to get out and get to the drugs. He didn't want their first meeting in 40 years to end with him in withdrawal.

"Gil please let me take you to a hospital. I have someone who can-" Germany's words were cut off as a knock slammed against the door.

Gil jumped hard, immediately staring at the door, trying to hide the fear in his eyes. He doubted he was successful.

"I'll get it," Germany stood with a nod and walked towards the door. He opened it slowly to see the smiling face of Russia.

"Is GDR here?" he asked simply.

Germany sighed. He couldn't legally hide Gil, no matter how badly he wanted to. He opened the door and looked back at his brother.

Gil froze, staring up at Russia. He stood slowly, walking up to him, trying to hold his head high. His hands were shaking badly again, and he was starting to get a headache. His body craving, begging enough to make it hard to hide. He tried to keep it together.

Russia pulled a small leather case out of his jacket and held it out to Gil.

Gil closed his eyes tightly for a moment.

"Gil…?" Germany asked carefully, looking down at the case, trying to process what was happening.

Gil looked up at his brother.

"Look at me," Russia snapped the order.

Gil obeyed instantly.

A cold chill went down Ludwig's spine to see his brother act like that, especially in front of Russia.

Russia slipped the case back into his pocket, "You're coming back home with me, GDR. You aren't allowed to be with your brother," he grabbed Gil's arm.

Prussia pulled his arm away, looking back at his brother, then to Russia. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay with his brother. He had to stay with his brother. He could get the drugs he needed in Berlin. He was sure of it. But Russia was right, it wasn't legal yet… and he could already feel his body growing waking with the people leaving across the wall… "Ok. Ok, I'll go with you," he looked up at Russia, forcing himself not to look at his brother.

Russia smiled that sickeningly childish smile that Prussia had grown to despise. Gil followed him towards the door, glancing back over his shoulder at his brother, trying to keep the tears back.

"I'll come back. I promise," he nodded, not caring what Russia did to him for it. He couldn't watch his brother's response, following Russia out of the room.

Germany stared at the door as it closed and turned to Italy for a moment before walking to the nearest chair and sitting down, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He wasn't sure where the tears were coming from, relief, pain, fear for what Russia had done and would do to his brother… everything at once. He hated crying. Especially crying in front of someone else. He felt Italy's arms around his shoulder's and the smaller country's head on his back.

"He'll be ok…" Italy whispered the promise, "I just know he will be."

Germany nodded slowly. He wouldn't stop fighting. Not until his brother was back forever.

…

Prussia's head snapped to the side with the force of Russia's hand on his cheek. He looked back at the giant country as they sat in the back of the car heading back to Russia's mansion.

"How dare you go and see your brother without permission!"

"Try and stop me!" Prussia snapped, his voice breaking as Russia's hand tightened around his throat. He brought both hands to it, trying to release it, trying to breathe.

"Don't make me."

"You're… you can't…" Prussia choked, struggling still, trying to get the words out, "You're… falling apart…. you can't…. keep me…"

"I. still. _own_ you!"

"For now," Prussia smirked, his vision blurring as Russia gripped tighter.

…

Gil opened his eyes slowly with a groan. His back stung. He was in his bed back at Russia's house lying on his stomach. He reached over his head to feel his back gingerly. No broken skin, but it was painful to touch and he could feel swelling under the skin. He could take bruising. That was far from new.

"Gil?"

He heard a voice behind him, and turned carefully onto his side, "Toris…" he sighed with a slight smile, "Why are you here?"

"To see if you're ok."

"You care too much, you know that?" Gil laid back onto his stomach, keeping his face towards Lithuania.

The dark-haired country shrugged, "So I've been told."

Gil winced a little in pain. He hadn't expected it, not with how weak Russia was. He figured that was the only reason his skin was still intact. Russia wasn't strong enough to break it anymore, at least not with his pipe. He inhaled through his teeth as he felt a cold cloth being laid over his shoulder blades.

"This'll help," Lithuania said kindly, adding more cold clothes.

"Thanks…" Gil sighed. It wasn't bad, just unexpected, "So… you're leaving too?"

Toris nodded, "Yes. I can't stay anymore. I'm going to leave… I'm working on it, trying to make it happen without bloodshed… my people don't want to fight, they just want Russia to leave them alone…"

"Do you think he will?"

"I don't know…" Lithuania sighed deeply, changing the subject, "So the wall is down."

Gil nodded, "Ja… and I saw my brother…"

"You did?" Lithuania smiled.

Gil nodded again, "Yeah… he uh…. he's a lot stronger. He doesn't look like the kid I left… he grew up. I missed it… I guess… he had to grow up too fast…"

"The first war?"

Gil sighed, nodding, "Yeah, the first war… it was bad… the second was worse for him… but now? Now he's strong and… forgiven… accepted back. Not like me…"

"You don't think you'll be accepted back… or forgiven?"

Gil shook his head, "No," he sighed, "No I don't. I don't belong here anymore. Monarchy, military… that's what I'm good at… and…" Gil sighed deeply, closing his eyes, "If I go back to my brother… I'll need my own country, won't I? What if when the SU falls they don't give me one back…?"

Lithuania said nothing.

"I don't want to stay with Russia… but… what I will I mean if I'm not…? If I go back to my brother…?"

"Are you asking me if I think you'll…"

"Yeah. I guess I am…"

Lithuania sighed deeply, closing his eyes, "I don't know, Gilbert. I really don't…"

Gil half laughed, "I'm still trying to decide if that actually bothers me… the idea that I might… actually... die… This… world… I don't really fit anymore… I don't know if I belong here… or… with the others… ow!" he turned to look up at Lithuania suddenly as he felt the man's very cold fingers on one of the wounds that he hadn't realized actually did include broken skin.

"Sorry… Just trying to bandage this…" Lithuania bit his lip in concentration.

Gil nodded, laying his head back down on the pillow. He didn't speak again, just kept his thoughts in his own head… he didn't want to admit that he was scared. Dying permanently meant leaving Ludwig, and that was the last thing he ever wanted to do again.

* * *

A/N: YAY! New chapter! I hope you all had a very happy Hanukkah, a very merry Christmas, and a fantastic New Years! I sure did! Another chapter for you all now that the holidays are over! I'm going to be working on set again this next month, but I hope to keep updating as well. Obviously, I'm not really updating daily anymore... (though I'd love to get back to that...) but I'll certainly let less time go by than this past update. (go holidays for adding BUSY-NESS to life!)

It was almost a year between the wall coming down, and the actual reunification of Germany, so Prussia doesn't get to stay home right away. And so the fight for reunification begins. Not everyone loves the idea...

As always, I LOVE reading your reviews and messages! Thank you so so SO much! I will reply to all I can! I've been getting a LOT of guest comments lately that I'm unable to reply to... :( I wish I could! Know you guys certainly get all the same treats and hugs from me even though I can't reply to you guys! Thank you for all the support and continued reading! leftover New Years treats for all of you! And how about a special batch of Potato Latkes so you all get Hanukkah treats too! XD Thank you all for the support! Really! I love you guys! :D


	91. Chapter 91: Alive

Chapter 91

"Gilbert…?"

The voice drifted into his barely conscious mind. He groaned, bringing his arm over his face, too exhausted to roll onto his side.

"Gilbert?"

The voice was louder now, and he didn't want to hear it.

"Gilbert…?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look up into Russia's bright violet eyes. He didn't want Russia's hand on him, but he wanted to move even less.

"Are you feeling all right, GDR?"

Prussia pulled away from Russia's hand feeling his hair. He shivered. He hadn't realized how sweaty he was. He felt awful, shivering with cold again.

"Why didn't you tell me it was this bad…?" Russia's voice felt distant, his words barely registering in Gilbert's mind.

"Maybe because I can't leave this bed…?" Prussia said with an eye roll, daring to try it. He heard no reaction from Russia, which surprised him. He'd half expected retaliation.

Russia sighed deeply, "Last time you were like this-"

"You should have let me die," Prussia turned his head away.

"Nyet.

Prussia looked back at him, shaking his head with all the strength he could still find. He swore, half laughing, "Ja. Ja you should have. You built that d*** wall to keep me, and everyone else in, and you should have just let them go. Let them go and let me just die. Please… please just leave me alone…"

"You… you want to die…?

Prussia kept his eyes on Russia's, expecting to see cruelty, hatred, scoffing… but it wasn't there. Just pain. Like the idea horrified him. Like Russia didn't want him to die. Prussia half-laughed and turned away without an answer.

Russia said nothing, staring back at the Nation in front of him. Gil was pale, even paler than usual, dark circles prominent under his eyes. The rise and fall of Gil's chest was weak, and in the silence, Russia could hear every breath shake through his lungs.

"You're dying… aren't you?"

"Get. out." Prussia snapped without looking at Russia.

"What?"

Prussia shivered out of habit to hear the change in the bigger country's voice. He didn't care. He looked back into Russia's face, "Get out of my room. Don't you dare-" he jumped, his words cut off by the back of Russia's hand across his face as his head snapped to the side. He grimaced, hoping Russia wouldn't see it.

"Don't ever speak to me that way again…"

"You don't own me."

"Oh yes I do."

Prussia turned to look at him again, "You won't soon. I'm going back with my brother. And you're going to lose everything. I know everyone else is leaving. What's that like? How does it feel? Does it hurt?" He expected a slap, surprised when he didn't feel it. He saw the pain in Russia's eyes again. He didn't like it. It made it harder to hate him, and he wanted so badly to hate him.

"Don't leave, Gilbert… please."

Prussia kept his eyes fixed on Russia's face. He'd expected orders, he'd expected anger, but not pain. Not desperation.

"I'm not staying…" he whispered, staring at Russia, not entirely sure how he was supposed to react.

"I'll give you Kaliningrad."

Prussia froze. "W… what?"

"You're dying. You barely have land anymore, and when then this is over, you know it'll end in 'reunification'. That would kill you… wouldn't it?"

Prussia didn't answer. He didn't want to think about it. He couldn't see any way he could possibly survive reunification. Not unless they gave him land of his own. Kaliningrad… Königsberg… His city. His city, stolen by Russia after the war, its name changed, it's culture stolen from him.

"I'm listening…"

Russia smiled, looking into Gil's face as red eyes rose to meet his. There it was. That ambition he was counting on, the arrogant ego that was so much a part of the smaller nation.

"You'd get land again. Even just one city would be enough to keep you alive. Especially a city you have so much history in. With the borders open you could see your brother whenever you wanted. You could easily travel often to see him, da?" Russia smiled.

Prussia closed his eyes, remembering what it was like in Königsberg. His city. He opened his eyes slowly, dread settling into his stomach, "I… Kaliningrad belongs to you…"

Russia nodded, "Da."

Prussia set his jaw, "I'd have to stay with you… wouldn't I? I'd still be here… here in your house… owned by you…"

Russia nodded again, "You would have more freedom than before, Gilbert. And most important of all, you'd be alive."

Prussia looked away, "Get. Out."

Russia stood, "Let me know what you choose, Gilbert. I wouldn't want to watch you die."

Prussia forced himself not to turn as Russia walked out of the room, and closed the door behind him. The moment he was alone he relaxed a little, staring up at the blank grey ceiling. He closed his eyes, wincing in pain. His whole body ached, his lungs heaved in his chest with every breath, and the more people that left the east side of Berlin, the more his chest burned with pain.

He'd never imagined what it would be like to die permanently. He was one of the few Nations who'd killed another of their kind, but no one was killing him now. His body was dying as his people were leaving, as his land was becoming not his own. The pain was almost unbearable, and he could bear a lot. Years of being tortured and killed for red eyes and white skin. Years of dying in battle to come back as a 'ghost' to haunt enemy soldiers in a bloody uniform. Years of taking life from thousands upon thousands of soldiers, of watching people die, of killing with his sword, with a gun, with his bare hands… And now he was dying. And no one was killing him. No one conquered him, no one was going to slice a sword through his neck, no one was taking over after a hard-won fight. He was just going to stop existing. Was this it? Would he just fade away like the others but without any fatal wounds? Just the pain that felt like it was tearing him apart.

He rolled to his side, biting his lips into his mouth to keep back a cry of pain from the effort, and pulled a pillow over the side of his face. He hated this. All of it. He was supposed to be the strongest Nation in the world. He was the military conqueror, the soldier, the best general in any army in the entirety of history. And he'd been given a chance to stay alive.

Kaliningrad. Königsberg. His home. His own land. Land that should belong to him, being offered back. The only price was staying with Russia. But Russia was getting better….

Gil winced as the sound of Russia shouting at someone, probably Lithuania, echoed down the halls, easily carried through the house. He couldn't do this. He couldn't stay. But if he left… He shook his head, throwing the pillow off his head, crying out in pain as his arms burned with the effort. He fell back onto the bed, almost gasping with pain, closing his eyes, trying to force himself back to the soldier's discipline he used to have. The kind of willpower that could make all pain go away. The kind of strength to do whatever he had to do. It wasn't there. His body was weak, his willpower gone.

Gil shook his head again and turned to look at his bedside table. He sighed smiling slightly. Russia had left a small black leather case on the nightstand. Gil reached for it. Maybe it would help.

…

Germany leaned forward, his head in his hands. The chair was uncomfortable, made worse by hours of waiting, made worse by hours of exhaustion. The downside of being a Nation when someone he cared about, a human, was in pain.

"I'm sure she's doing fine, Germany…" Italy's voice drifted into his mind.

Germany nodded, smiling slightly to feel Italy's hand on his shoulder. It helped to have him there. The ever-optimistic redhead who followed him around like a lost dog and sort of accidentally became his closest friend along the way. He looked up at him with a nod.

"I know… just-"

The sound of crying broke his sentence. He jumped to his feet, gasping suddenly with a smile, a real smile.

Italy stood almost at the same time, grinning, "There's one!" Italy looked like he was ready to jump up and down with excitement.

Germany chuckled a little, nodding, "So there is."

Another cry, this one louder. Two babies crying in their first seconds in the world.

Germany brought his hand to his eyes, surprised to feel tears pricking them. He'd never been this close to a child being born before. He'd felt life before, but this was different. This was stronger than anything he'd ever felt. Stronger than anything else in the world. He looked at the door of the hospital room, smiling again to hear the excited and crying voices of adults as the babies' voices calmed. It seemed like hours before a nurse beckoned him inside the room.

"I'll wait out here until later…" Italy said, almost sadly.

Germany nodded, grateful for being left alone with Cort and Eva. Eva had barely spoken to him since the dinner that went wrong. Cort tried to help, tried to talk to him. He was the one who'd invited them to stay for the birth… Eva hadn't said a word to him about it. He doubted he'd ever earn her forgiveness. He didn't think he deserved it. Not after everything he'd done. He stepped through the door of the room, smiling to see Cort holding one of the babies, and Eva the other.

"Ludwig! You're here!" Cort grinned, moving so the Nation could see the tiny human he held in his arms. "It's a boy and a girl, Luddy. We got both," Cort whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Germany smiled, "They're beautiful," he nodded, walking up to Cort.

"Ludwig…?"

He turned, surprised to hear Eva's voice. She was crying too. She looked tired, exhausted, but her eyes sparkled, and her sweat-soaked hair curled around her face. She was practically glowing. He couldn't smile. He wanted to, but he couldn't, afraid of what she was going to say.

"Would you like to hold her…?" Eva smiled, glancing down at the beautiful little angel in her arms, then back up at him.

Germany blinked, staring at her. "You… you want to let me…" he wasn't sure he wanted to. He would break it. He was sure he would break it. She knew what he'd done. How could she offer to let him hold something so precious…

"Luddy. It's ok," She smiled through tears, holding the child out to him, "It's ok…"

He looked at her for reassurance again, shocked to see her smile was still there. He reached out for the baby, wrapped up in a blanket, then pulled his hands back, "I… I don't…."

"Like this…" Eva smiled still, moving his arms and laying the tiny human in them.

Germany looked up at her as she started to let go.

"It's ok, Luddy. I promise it's ok. You'll be fine!" she laughed.

"You… trust me…? With…. with this? Something so…" he looked down at the baby in absolute awe. It was so tiny, so innocent. It's little face scrunched up in discomfort for a moment, then relaxed into sleep, it's eyes staying closed. He looked down at the little fingers that opened and closed, barely bigger than toothpicks. He'd never seen a human so small, or so perfect.

"D…does…" he whispered, not even realizing he was, "Does she have a name…?"

Eva nodded, "Gemma," she smiled, "and the boy is Konrad."

Germany smiled back, "I like their names."

"I'm glad you do," Eva said, her eyes still sparkling, "Luddy…"

He looked back at her, practically tearing his eyes away from the tiny sleeping child in his arms, "…yes?" he whispered hesitantly.

"You… you really didn't want anything that happened in the war, did you…?"

Germany sighed. Now. Now of all times. He couldn't blame her. He was holding her child. "I… looking back, no. But now I'm… 'sane'… back then… it was different. It was like being drunk… or high… I've heard that Nations can get high on nationalism that's too strong. I think I can safely say that's true… I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know what was really going on… they practically worshiped me, and… and I let them. But I hate everything I did during the war. Everything. If I could go back in time…"

"It's ok…" Eva nodded, sighing deeply, "It's ok, Luddy…"

"I… I know you don't have to forgive me…"

"I do. I do it's ok. I…. I don't understand it. Not really. What you are, what everything means… but… but I forgive you," her eyes sparkled more, "Which is why…" she looked up at Cort.

Cort smiled, "We want you to be Gemma's godfather."

"WHAT?" Germany blinked, "You… you want what? I don't know what to do with… with any humans, let alone mini ones!"

Eva laughed, her clear, crystal laugh, "They won't be mini forever, Ludwig."

"That's… that's even weirder…"

Cort laughed too, shaking his head, "Sometimes, Luddy… sometimes…"

"What?" Germany turned to look at him, concerned.

"Sometimes I have my doubts that you're as old as you say you are. You've never met a baby before?"

"Well…. no…. actually no…" Germany bit his lip. Was that a bad thing? He was pretty sure that was a bad thing. Why was he still holding the baby? He had no idea what he was doing. He shook his head, handing Gemma back to Eva and wrapping his arms around themselves, trying to make himself feel less awkward. It wasn't working.

"Is something wrong, Luddy?" Cort asked, worried.

"I… nein… I just…" Germany sighed, "Feli will want to meet the babies too… I… I should go get him…"

Eva smiled, "Ok. But, it's ok, Luddy. It really is ok."

Germany nodded more out of habit than actual agreement. He wasn't sure if he was ok. He laughed a little as Italy ran into the hospital room almost squealing with excitement when he called down the hallway for him. He watched as the redhead picked up the offered infant and cuddled it, talking to it like it could actually understand him. He didn't know how Italy found it so easy to be around humans. Humans were so fragile. He was so scared of hurting them. So afraid he'd hurt him… but not Italy. Italy held the baby like he'd held a thousand of them. He might have. Germany didn't know. Italy was a lot older, not that either of them ever really talked about their pasts. Especially him. He knew Italy would listen, but he didn't want to talk about it.

He smiled, looking back at Italy holding the baby again. He looked so happy. He wanted to feel that happy with humans. Someday… maybe. Maybe he could feel completely comfortable with them. Maybe even happy.

* * *

A/N: I'm aliiiiiive! Hello! Sorry it's been so long. Did some more film work, which was great fun, but took a lot of time. Early mornings and shooting all outside. I live up north in the US, and we had some -17F days. Not. So. Fun. Anyway, another chapter for you all! Hopefully one of many more to come soon. This middle section is killing me. Prussia between being GDR and being unified with Germany... middle sections... *sigh*

Anyway, it's late so I'll be brief. Some history in this one. With Kaliningrad and all. It would tempt Prussia. I'm sure it would. His ambission is a very deep part of who he is...

Reviews are so appreciated! Really they are! And hi new people! You are so welcome here! Nice to have you! Cookies and treats and hot cocoa and warm blankets (It's still so cold...) for all of you! HUGS!

Credit to for the twins' names! :D :D :D Thanks!


	92. Chapter 92: Goodbye

Chapter 92

Russia closed his eyes, keeping his hand on the radio as he turned it on. The music faded in through the room, though his mind… old waltzes. A very faint smile crept onto his lips as the memories of swirling snow outside tall windows filled his mind. Long candlelit nights of great dances in majestic ballrooms, of men and women in white silk swirling over the dance floor like butterflies. There was passion behind the music, but it made his soul ache...if Nations had a soul. If he had a soul… he wasn't sure anymore. Maybe the pain meant it was still there, somewhere.

Slowly, he slipped off his coat and laid it on the low chest at the end of his bed. His sweater followed, leaving only the soft cotton shirt underneath. Gently he took his scarf from his neck, laying it over his coat, petting down the soft finely hand-knit material as he stepped back. He looked down at his boots and kicked them off, gently moving them to the side of his bed, out of the way. He closed his eyes again with a deep sigh as he lifted his arms. His feet started to move, stepping across the hardwood like it hadn't been years.

The room around him melted away, and he was back in one of the great ballrooms. Olga, his Olga, was in his arms. An unspoken thing catching in their eyes between glances at each other and the other dancers.

 _"I almost forgot what a good dancer you are, Braginsky," She smiled, her eyes meeting his briefly._

 _"I've had a little practice," he smiled back, "And how often do I have to tell you to call me Ivan? Or Vanya if you wish…" he hoped._

 _She simply smiled again, keeping her eyes away from his._

 _The music ended and he offered her his arm, leading her back to where her family was seated. Nicholas gave him an understanding, almost playful look. A fatherly 'be careful with my daughter' glance that made Ivan smile again. He nodded in return, turning to sit next to Alexei._

 _"Are you enjoying the ball, little sailor?"_

 _"I would like it more if I could dance," Alexei's voice was sad, almost pained. There was a loneliness hidden in it that made Ivan's heart sink._

 _"Here," Ivan stood and turned to the child. He glanced up at Nicholas, who gave a nod of approval, and reached to lift the boy into his arms._

 _"What are you doing, Vanya?"_

 _Ivan pretended to look confused for a moment, then smiled, "Dancing."_

 _Alexei smiled a little, nodding, "Ok…"_

 _Ivan spun around with Alexei, laughing as the boy did. When he finally set him down after the song, he was a little out of breath, but happy. Alexei smiling at him made any effort in the world worth it. Nothing was as valuable as the smile of that child._

 _He turned as he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Olga._

 _"Thank you for helping my brother," she smiled softly, looking into his eyes, her own sparkling in the candlelight._

 _He reached for her hand, surprised when she allowed him to take it._

 _"If you're not too tired… I would dance with you again… Ivan."_

 _He smiled, nodding and offering her his arm to lead her onto the dance floor. He brought his arm around her waist, and the other to her hand, pulling her close as the music started to play. And they danced._

Russia opened his eyes as a hand slipped into his, and another brought his arm around a girl's waist. He smiled.

"Katya," he kissed the top of her head with a smile, continuing to move across the room, holding her tightly.

"I heard the music…" she smiled, laying her head on his shoulder, "It's been a long time since I've seen you dance, Ivan, or heard you listening to music…"

He said nothing.

"It's old music…"

He nodded slowly.

"You only listen to this when you're sad, Vanya…" she looked up at him, "Tell me what's wrong…?"

He shook his head gently with a sigh and kept dancing with her, spinning her gently before she could ask another question.

"Vanya…" She stopped him, looking up into his eyes.

He pulled away, taking a few steps back to the radio and turning it off.

"Vanya?"

"What?" He didn't turn.

"You… you didn't eat supper tonight. I was worried… you… Are you all right…?"

"Everyone's leaving," he said the words flatly, but his voice almost broke at the end. He felt Ukraine's hand on his shoulder and turned slightly, not quite to look at her.

"I'm sorry, Vanya… I'm sorry…" She looked down, then up at his face, so much sisterly love in her face it made his heartache.

"Does it hurt?"

He nodded slowly, "Da…" he sighed, stepping back towards his coat and slipping it on.

Ukraine sat on the low chest at the foot of his bed. She picked up the scarf, the scarf she'd made him, and set it into her lap, folding it gently. She pet the fabric with a deep sigh. She looked up at him, her eyes drifting to rest on the bangs at his neck. She looked down at the scarf again.

"Vanya… when I made you this… do you remember what I said?"

He smiled, "Besides asking me for Kievan Rus?"

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, besides that, silly."

"You said you made it for me so you could always be with me…" he smiled sadly, "You will, won't you? Always be with me? Always be here?"

Ukraine nodded slowly, setting the scarf down on the chest and standing slowly, "It's worse though, isn't it?"

"What's worse?"

"The pain…. the… cold…?" she sighed, knowing she should expect an answer, "I heard you offered Gilbert Kaliningrad…"

"Da. He needs to stay with me, and he needs to stay alive. This is a good solution, da?"

Ukraine nodded slowly.

"You think he shouldn't take it…don't you Katya?"

She sighed, "Vanya…"

"Nyet. If you're going to try and tell me to just let him go-"

"I'm not exactly saying that but…Vanya you can't force people to stay with you…"

"Why would I need to do that? Shouldn't they stay on their own? Shouldn't they see everything I've done for them! Why would they want to leave me! Why are they leaving me!?"

"Have you seen what you've done to them? Do you know how badly you've treated them? How can you not see that!? Vanya…"

"I've made them stronger! I saved them, all of them, after the war, after America tried to make the whole world hate me!"

"You did that yourself!" She stood, looking into his eyes.

He looked away.

"You did that when you starting beating Lithuania again! When you tortured Gilbert! When you started keeping them locked away in here, forcing them to follow every rule, every order, making them your slaves in this house! Don't you see that…"

"Don't say that!" he grabbed her arm, "Why shouldn't they be grateful after all I've done for them! Katya, I can't lose them, I can't. They belong here. I protect them, I help them!"

"You… how do you not see what's happened to you!?" She pulled her arm away, bringing her hand to it, staring at him.

"The only thing that's happening to me, is learning how weak I used to be." his voice broke, and he turned away.

"Vanya…" Ukraine softened her voice, setting her hand on his shoulder, "If you think you're only stronger now… why did you dance?"

Russia closed his eyes, trying to fight tears. He wouldn't cry. He couldn't. He didn't want his sister to see him cry. He didn't answer, putting his hand on hers.

"Katya-" His words cut off as she hugged him, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head on his shoulder.

"Ivan, you…" tears spilled over her cheeks, "You're the best brother… the best little brother ever…"

Ivan closed his eyes, exhaling hard and holding her tighter, shaking his head, "Katya don't…" he whispered, "Please… please don't…" he could feel her ribs heaving as she sobbed, clinging to him.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry I have to…I need my freedom, I have to go…. I have to…" she pulled away from the hug and turned to the scarf again, picking it up. She looked at it for a moment, running her hand over the soft fine-knit wool, tears streaming down her cheeks. Slowly, she let the scarf unfold, reaching up to slip it around her brother's neck.

"I will always, always be with you…"

"I'll never forgive you if you leave…" He set his jaw, desperately forcing himself not to cry.

Her bright blue eyes shimmered with tears as she looked into his face, "I'm sorry. Even if you never forgive me… I'm sorry. I have to…" She hugged him, clinging.

He didn't hug back, closing his eyes, "Get out."

She looked up at him, silently begging for him to look at her. He didn't. She turned away, nodding. She understood… almost. She turned towards the door, looking back at him as tears threatened to choke her, "You… You'll always be my baby brother… Vanya." She closed the door behind her.

Ivan fell to his knees, leaning against the chest to steady himself. His body ached, the angry painful tears burning in the back of his throat. He let himself cry. From pain, from anger, from breaking, from being torn apart. He couldn't fix it. All he wanted to do was fix it. To bring his family back together. Why would they try and leave him? He loved them, couldn't they all see he cared about them? He needed them. He didn't have anyone else. They had to stay! He needed them to stay…

…

Russia threw open Gil's door, staring down at the white-haired Nation lying on his side. He could almost hear the shaking breath from where he stood in the doorframe. He saw Gil's eyes flick open to meet his silhouette.

"You have ten minutes to get up, dressed, and be in my car. Otherwise, you won't be there to talk about the reunification," he slammed the door closed again behind him.

Prussia groaned, rolling his eyes at Russia. He sat up on his elbow, looking down at the edge of the bed. He could do this. He forced himself to sit up, digging for willpower he wasn't sure he had anymore. He managed to get his feet to the floor, then stood, his legs shaking with pain and aching with illness. He didn't want to move. His stomach churned with the sudden change in gravitational direction, and he doubled over, trying to keep the supper he hadn't touched from coming back up. He reached for the drugs. He didn't have enough time as it was, but he would make time for it. He didn't think he would get through it without them.

He set the syringe down, sighing deeply and rubbing his arm to relieve the stinging he no longer felt. It was more of a habit than a necessity. He glanced at the small closet and forced himself to walk towards it, dressing in his uniform. He didn't have time to make it as perfect as he wanted it to be. He winced as he pulled on the sleeves, almost gasping with pain. He felt like he was breaking apart as his people left. He didn't care. He wanted them to leave. Let him die. Let him fade if it meant freedom for them.

A voice in the back of his mind reminded him of Russia's offer. An offer that would save his life, would give him something he could represent. It was still more than tempting.

He looked at the clock. He didn't have time for to think. He tugged on his boots, lacing them quickly. He'd have time to fix that in the car. He tried to smooth out his hair for a few seconds before completely giving up, and braced himself on the door before opening it. He tried to hurry down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. He stepped outside and opened the car door, sliding in with almost a minute to spare. He didn't bother looking at Russia.

"So, I made it. Let's go," he said.

"All right then."

Prussia set his jaw, he could hear Russia's condescending admiration in his voice. But he'd impressed the bigger country, and that gave him some satisfaction.

"You didn't think I could do it, did you?" he smirked a little on the side Russia couldn't see.

"I figured you could manage if you set your mind to it… with some motivation, da?"

He shrugged, "Ten minutes is a long time to get ready for anything in the military."

"Well considering how sick you are, I thought I'd be extra nice to you."

"Danke," Gil said, pure sarcasm blatantly evident in his tone.

"You are most welcome of course. Considering how much pain you're in, it was the reasonable thing to do, da?"

Prussia set his jaw.

"So tell me, GDR, how much pain are you in? How does it feel to be torn apart?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that," he whispered coldly.

Russia laughed, "And why would you be asking me this?"

"Because I know everyone is leaving."

"Some of them have said as much, da. But no one has left yet. They're going to stay. I'm going to make sure they stay."

"By beating them?" Prussia dared to ask.

"Probably not."

"Oh? Probably not, how reassuring," Prussia rolled his eyes. He winced as Russia grabbed his face, turning it towards him.

"Don't speak to me like that, Gilbert. If you weren't sick I'd make you regret it?"

"Now, or when we get back?" Prussia pulled his face back, holding Russia's hand away from his face with a much less powerful grip than he wished he was capable of.

"Are you challenging me?" Russia asked, almost amused, the sickeningly childish smile on his face.

"No. I don't think you're up for it."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because I am WAY more awesome than you."

* * *

A/N: Hi! I'm here again! Lol. Anyway, another chapter for you all! More Russia! I needed more Russia... The beginning of this chapter was really heartbreaking to write... :(

Ukraine technically announced it was separating from the USSR a bit after the reunification of Germany, but since she's not actually leaving until after... I fudged the time of the announcement. XD

Hugs and cookies and all good things for all of you! And thank you SO much to those of you who are still faithfully reviewing! I love you all! *HUGS*. Hmmmm a special treat fo you... well... there's a new Boba tea place in my city, and it's SO GOOD. So delicious Boba tea for all of you!


	93. Chapter 93: Together

Chapter 93

Prussia walked beside Russia down the long open halls that lead to the meeting room. It had been a while. Even when his country had been accepted back to the world meetings, he hadn't been allowed to go. His government had been worried about him saying something 'unhelpful'.

"You can take my offer any time you'd like, Gilbert," Russia smiled, his usual childish smile, and kept walking.

Prussia resisted the urge not to swear at him, "I'm good, thanks," he snapped.

"You might want to think about it. If all goes well today… you might not have a choice at all."

Prussia tried to ignore him.

"You know…" Russia smiled again, "I've heard that it's quite painful to die… I've never been even close to that weak, but-"

"Shut up," Prussia snapped again, turning to glare at Russia.

Russia's smile grew, "You'll change your mind."

"You wish," Prussia growled, walking faster ahead of Russia. He walked into the conference room, almost freezing in the door for a moment. He looked at the ceiling, the walls, the floor, the table, chairs, lights…. everything. Everything was different, but still very much the same. Still sterile, political, completely void of any emotion. Emotion wasn't important in politics, at least, not usually. Prussia could feel it twisting in his stomach. Or maybe it was the heroin. He wasn't sure.

Prussia looked around the room again, this time at the faces. He knew a lot of them, from the television if nothing else, but there were a few unfamiliar faces. America was there, with his boss, as well as Russia's government of course. Finally, his eyes rested on the face he was most excited to see: his brother's.

The bright blue eyes looked tired, worn into his brother's face. They were slightly bloodshot and the blue circles under them revealed the lack of sleep. Gil didn't care. He hadn't really slept either. Almost instinctively, like no time had passed, he stepped towards the chair next to his brother, only to be held back by Russia's hand on his shoulder.

"Nyet," Russia snapped, just barely calm enough not to raise any suspicion.

Gil pulled his arm away and sat next to Germany, not bothering to look at Russia's face. He knew what expression he'd find there, he didn't need to see it. He tried to ignore the pain he saw on his brother's face. He didn't want pity. He didn't want his baby brother to be worried about his safety. He just wanted to go home. Nothing else mattered except going home.

Prussia leaned back in the chair, looking up at England as he stood. He bit his lip when England turned away after meeting his eyes. A twist knotted into his stomach. England didn't want him back with Germany. He was still afraid of him. He could feel it. He could see it. England was still afraid of him.

He smiled a little, faintly, as he felt his brother's strong reassuring hand on his knee. He shoved down the choke that rose to his throat and brought his hand down on his brother's, giving it a gentle squeeze before returning both his hands to the table in front of them. He saw Germany do the same out of the corner of his eyes. He forced himself to look back up at England as he spoke.

"Germany… GDR…" England sighed, "After many, many hours of deliberation… France and I still don't think it's a wise or intelligent idea to allow this reunification to take place. I'm sorry."

Gil tried to swallow down the breath that was punched out of him. He tried to sit calmly, to take that answer and wait for Germany's response. He tried to force himself to stare forward and not look at Russia. He couldn't. Red eyes met violet and the knot in his stomach grew tighter at the smug pride he saw in them. He saw his brother stand up next to him, but didn't hear what he said, only felt the contained anger in them. Then France stood up. England and France argued against him, his brother for him. Russia stayed silent, horribly cruelly silent, his eyes fixed on Gilbert.

Finally, England agreed to reassess things with Germany and France, but only after a few hours of talking with his government. Germany agreed.

"Gilbert?"

Prussia looked up at his brother, looking around the room suddenly realizing everyone else was gone. He nodded, standing slowly. He felt his brother's hand on his shoulder.

"Gilbert?" the deep voice asked again.

Prussia nodded slowly, sighing deeply, "Sorry," he shook his head, "sorry it's just…. a lot."

Germany nodded in return, "I won't let you go back to him. Not for one more day. Not for one more second, I promise."

Prussia smiled sadly. His eyes felt heavy, painfully heavy, the weight in his chest refusing to ease. He felt so tired, so sick. Every muscle in his worn body ached like it was being torn apart.

"Is there anything I can get you…?" his brother's voice was gentle, but he could hear the hint of fear in it.

He shook his head, "No. No, I'm ok," he lied, "I'm just tired." He attempted a smile again, knowing it would fail miserably. He was too tired to make much more of an effort.

"This is going to take a few more hours… I'm sure there's somewhere in here you could rest…"

Prussia nodded slowly, trying to take a step forward. Pain shot through him, tearing, burning through his legs up to his chest. He slid against the table, trying to support himself with shaking arms. He felt his brother's hands on his sides, lifting him gently, helping him stand.

"How bad is it?" He could feel the worry in Germany's voice even more than hear it.

He shook his head, "Not as bad as it looks," he lied again. He didn't want Germany to worry about him. Germany always worried, and about almost everything, the last thing he needed was to think his brother was dying. The last thing he needed was to know his brother was dying. Was he dying? He felt like he was dying? How long had he been dying? He tried to shake away the thought, digging for willpower to make himself stand without help. He found it, somehow, and stood strong again.

"I…" he started, "I think I will go somewhere for a rest."

Germany nodded slowly.

Prussia walked behind his brother, forcing one foot in front of the other. His boots felt a million times heavier than they were supposed to. He smiled a little as Germany opened the door to a small room with a table and couch. A small conference room for private meetings between two or three officials. Slowly Gil lowered himself onto the couch.

"I have to go," Germany sighed, "I'll be back soon? I have to get this figured out…"

Prussia nodded.

"I know it's been months but… I'll get you back. I promise I'll get you back."

Prussia looked up at him with a gentle smile, "I know you will Bruderchen. I know you will." For a second the pain didn't matter, because Germany smiled. A real smile. A smile Gilbert missed terribly. He'd had the same smile since he was a child. A soft grin with a closed mouth that pulled up the right side of his mouth just a tiny bit more than the left. Prussia smiled a little more, trying to hide a half laugh.

"What?" Germany looked at him, confused.

"Oh, just remembering that time I told you about how your smile is a little crooked," he half chuckled, leaning over his knees on the couch, trying to hide the arm he wrapped around himself to press into his stomach in a prayer to ease the deep, deep ache.

Germany's face fell, suddenly looking highly concerned, "It's still crooked?" he asked, horrified.

Prussia laughed, a dry raspy laugh that sounded harsher than the last time he'd heard it. He nodded, "Yeah it's still crooked, but it's still yours and I sill like it."

Germany rolled his eyes, "And I still like your stupid laugh."

"Hey!" Prussia smiled in mock offense, "My laugh is awesome!"

Germany rolled his eyes playfully, "Oh sure!" he said, sticking out his tongue and hissing like a snake.

"I don't sound that bad!" Prussia laughed more, shaking his head.

"Yes, you do."

"Do not!"

"Yes, you do!"

Prussia looked up at his brother as his strong shoulders shook with laughter. He didn't argue again, just looking up at Germany. When had he gotten that tall? That strong? He felt a tear down his cheek, brushing it away quickly and praying Germany hadn't seen it.

Germany stopped laughing after a while, "I…" his voice shook, "I should go. I have a lot to talk about with England and France still."

Prussia nodded slowly, "Thanks, kid."

Germany smiled sadly and turned around.

Prussia watched him walk out of the room with a sigh, falling onto his back on the couch the moment the door closed. He gripped his stomach and chest like it would relieve the pain. He closed his eyes tight, opening his mouth in pain that had to stay silent. He couldn't let anyone else know, especially not Germany.

 _Prussia's back hit the table as papers and glasses were shoved off it. He pressed into the wounds on his chest and stomach as hard as he could, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. More hands pressed on top of his. He looked up at the rough dark green tent and bit his tongue to keep from screaming. He heard people talking, men shouting orders, was there a woman too? He couldn't tell. His ears still rang, the sounds as blurred as vision clouded with dirt and blood. He felt a cloth wiping the mud away from his eyes and tried to look up. Germany. He could see his brother's face, worried, and barking orders at the soldiers trying to help him. He looked down at his own chest and the spikes of metal that stuck out of it. He swore, letting his head fall back against his brother's hand as it shielded him from slamming into the metal table._

 _"_ _Gilbert you have to move your arms, please!" his brother's voice was distant, like listening through water._

 _He shook his head. He couldn't do that. He'd die, and dying hurt., and dying meant a lot of explaining things to soldiers who he couldn't explain things to, and that made for awkward conversations with the government, and there was nothing worse than having to have conversations with the government. He shook his head, feeling hands grabbing onto his arms to try and force them away from the wounds. He struggled, gripping his brother's hand as it slipped into his, gently pulling his arm away from the wounds._

 _"_ _I'm not letting you die, ok?" Germany's voice broke through the awful ringing sound that wouldn't go away. "You're not dying. I've got you. I've got you, ok?"_

 _Prussia nodded weakly, screaming in pain as one of the doctors rushed up to him and got to work. He felt his brother's grip tighten around his hand. He squeezed back, clutching at it._

 _"_ _Is that all you've got?" Germany tried to laugh, "I know you're a lot stronger than that. Come on. You can't hurt me."_

 _Prussia squeezed his hand harder, shaking with pain as shrapnel was dug out of his body. Maybe it would hurt less if he could just die. Why did Nations have to be so hard to kill? Why couldn't it just kill him and he could wake up in a few hours? But that meant the explaining, and that still sounded terrible. His ears were still ringing, but it was starting to fade. He could feel consciousness starting to slip._

 _"_ _Gilbert? Gilbert listen to me ok? Just try to look at me!"_

 _Prussia nodded slowly, turning to try and focus on his brother's face. His vision was clearing more, barely. He could see those bright blue eyes, worried but trying to be strong. Germany always, always tried to be strong, no matter what was happening. He could see panic hidden in his brother's eyes. Panic he knew Germany was trying to keep the soldiers from seeing._

 _He squeezed Germany's hand harder, throwing his head back with a loud cry of pain again._

 _He watched his brother's composure break with his voice._

 _"_ _I've got you, big brother, "I've got you…" the choke at the end of the words hurt more than the shrapnel._

Prussia gripped his chest, eyes still closed. Shrapnel sounded wonderful compared to this. This was too much. He felt like his body was being ripped apart muscle by muscle, bone by bone, cell by cell. He'd heard England and France talk about civil wars and revolutions before. How it tore them apart from the inside and the kind of pain it caused. This felt worse.

Slowly, he forced his eyes to open, then his arms to move. He sat up, shaking with pain, and stood, stepping towards the sink and two cupboards in the room. He found a water glass and filled it, his hands shaking so badly he could barely drink. He wasn't sure if he needed drugs, or if it was just pain, not that it mattered. He tried to think. It had been at least six hours since he'd had any. He could usually last six hours. He cupped his hand, filling it with cold water, and splashed it on his face. He'd be ok. It was all going to be ok. It had to be.

Prussia turned suddenly as there was a knock at the door. He smiled a little to see Germany. He nodded, walking towards him. He let his brother support him, help him until they got to the door of the conference room.

"I have to walk in myself," he said, pulling Germany's arm away from him.

Germany nodded, understanding.

Prussia walked into the room and sat in the same chair as before, watching Germany sit beside him. His eyes met Russia's again. The ice was still there, but there was something else. Something darker, something colder and more dangerous. Prussia felt relief sinking into his chest. It had been a long time, but he'd seen that look on Russia's face before. Defeat.

England stood again, looking at Germany and at Prussia, "The governments of England and France will not stand in the way of the reunification of one German republic."

Prussia stared at him, barely able to believe the words he just heard. He turned as his boss stood, along with Germany's. They said something he barely heard, barely understood. He looked at Germany. Was this happening? This couldn't be happening. His boss shook the hand of Germany's. This couldn't be happening! He watched as aides passed out papers almost in slow motion, and handed him a pen.

Prussia looked up, staring at Germany's boss as he spoke.

"With the signing of these papers, Deutsche Einheit (German unity) will be complete. Berlin will once again, be one city, and Germany will again be one country, as it should be. With the signing of these papers, the Deutsche Demokratische Republik will be dissolved, and we will have one country: one Bundesrepublik Deutschland." (Republic of Germany)

Prussia looked down at the paper in front of him, and the pen in his shaking left hand. His eyes met his brother's for a second before he looked down at the paper again. Dread sank into his chest. What if it killed him? He'd gotten lucky when they'd dissolved Prussia. Russia had claimed him, saved him. He looked up at the blond country. The anger he saw in his eyes was the best adrenaline rush he'd had in a while. He'd won. Not Russia, not General Winter, not England, not France, not anyone else who'd said that he and his brother weren't worth anything after the war. Not anyone who said they'd never get better. Not anyone who said they weren't worth trying to save. Not anyone else. He looked at Germany again with a smile. They'd won.

He looked down at the paper in front of him again, then at the pen. He didn't care if it killed him. Let his brother have all his land. Let him die and fade away into whatever else. He didn't care. They'd won. They'd won and his baby brother was going to be ok. No matter what his baby brother was going to be ok.

He reached for Germany's right hand with his left and leaned down over the paper. He closed his eyes for just a moment more, wondering for just a second how badly it was going to hurt. He signed.

* * *

A/N: So... hi! This story isn't over yet! And I'm not dead! :D :D :D Sorry about the horribly long wait. I know, it's been horrible. I've sadly been dealing with some medical issues that are beyond frustrating, very painful, and don't have a lot of good answers... I had surgery in February for it, but it didn't work, so I have to go again sometime this month. Bigger surgery this time, and it's not going to be easy, but it's going to be worth it. Thanks for still reading this story after such a long absence! I truly enjoy writing it! And this story has done so much for my life in general! I met my best friend on here! (you know who you are! ;) )

My life has gotten crazy, but I'm still here! I've had surgery, been in a musical, helped a friend write a musical, and have started writing my own as well as helping the theater group I work with in becoming an official theater company with our first official three-show season released! (And I'm directing one this winter! AHHH! EXCITING!) Anyway...

More is certainly to come. Much more. This isn't over yet! I did decide to condense this year of negotiations into one chapter... because while some people do find chapters upon chapters of 100% historically accurate arguing to be entertaining... I am not one of those people. So in this condensation of history, where I have still, of course, tried to remain accurate! So... the year is now 1990 and the Soviet Union is NOT doing so hot! Much more to come on things over on that side of Europe, and on what's going to happen to Gil. Any guesses? ;)

To all of my loyal and patient reviewers, first: all my hugs! and secondly, since I must keep the tradition of giving you all treats... have some treats! I offer candy and lemonade and all things lovely and summery. How about some grilled shrimp and pineapple kabobs? That's always a good idea!

How about I try not to let it be another 7 months in between uploads again huh? I think that sounds good! Mojo is back! :D :D :D Love you guys! Thank you all for the lovely reviews!


	94. Chapter 94: Silence

Chapter 94

Germany squeezed his brother's hand with his left as he reached for the paper with his right. Signing papers was a chore, but this was different. He'd never been more excited to sign something in his life. The pen glided across the paper as the letters of his name, both human and Nation, fell into place. He set down the pen and stood with his brother to wrap him in a hug. He felt his brother's thin arms around his shoulders, the fists closing around the fabric of his suit jacket. He heard cheering in a blur in the background. Nothing else mattered. Nothing except his brother. His brother was coming home. His brother was safe. He wasn't going back to Russia, not now, not ever. He was going to be ok. He was going to be safe. He was safe.

Germany pulled away from the hug, keeping his hands on Gilbert's shoulders. He looked into the bright red eyes and saw what he was looking for. Joy. Joy that wasn't clouded by pain, wasn't clouded by fear… then the pain returned.

"Gilbert…?" He asked, looking into his face.

Prussia didn't respond.

Germany grabbed his shoulders harder as ruby eyes rolled back and his brother's legs gave out, "GILBERT!?" This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't lose him. Not now. Not again. This couldn't be happening. He knelt, lowering his brother to the ground as one of the other Nations pulled the chairs back, making room.

"Gilbert?" he brushed his brother's hair back from his face, "Don't you dare… don't you f***** dare…" he licked tears off his lips. He hadn't realized he was crying. It didn't matter. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and pressed his hand into his brother's cheek. "Come on… hold on… please… Gilbert…?" He looked up at the other Nations, "Help please, please someone help him!" he begged, desperate.

Switzerland pushed forward, kneeling beside Germany.

"Vash please…" Germany looked at him, arm on his shoulder, begging still, "please help me…!?" He wiped his tears on his sleeve again, watching as Switzerland took Gil's right hand, feeling for a pulse.

"He's alive," Switzerland nodded, looking up at Germany, worried, "But…"

"Don't say he's dying. Please God, don't say he's dying…"

"I don't know Germany. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't know."

"Please…" Germany's voice broke completely, leaning over with his head on Gilbert's shoulder, "Please hang on…" he kept his hand on the white cheek. He felt a hand on his back and turned to look up at England.

"An ambulance is on its way…" the dark eyebrows twisted into a worried expression, "We'll do what we can."

Germany shook his head, "Anything. I'll do a _nything_ to save him. Anything. Please… Please, I can't lose him…" He felt arms wrap around his shoulders, hugging him from the side. "Ita…" he turned into the hug, never letting go of Gilbert's hand.

"Don't worry, Germany, we'll save him. It'll be ok… I promise!" Italy said, petting his hair, trying to comfort him.

Germany nodded again, turning back to his brother. He shook his shoulders, "Wake up! Please! Please wake up, please… Please, I can't… I can't…."

…

Red eyes opened. Everything was black. Everything was black and he was alone. He looked down at his clothes. They were loose, comfortable, and dark blue. His blue. He wore socks but no shoes. The pain hit, tearing through his body like thousands upon thousands of needles and knives. He fell to his knees with a scream he didn't hear. He slammed his fist into the black floor but it made no sound. He looked around, everything dark. He could see no source of light, but he could see his own skin when he looked down, white.

He doubled over, gripping his stomach. He pulled his hand away, expecting to see blood. With that much pain, there had to be blood. Nothing. He leaned forward until his knees hit the ground, leaning over on his right arm, his left wrapped around him. It felt like he was being ripped in half.

He screamed again, praying he would hear sound. Nothing. Nothing. Just silence.

Was that his brother's voice? He was sure he heard his brother's voice. He turned around, reaching forward. His hands hit concrete.

No.

He felt more, the grey stone more and more visible. Concrete, going high above his head and as far on either side as he could see. He turned around.

More concrete.

He turned back to the wall, slamming his fists against it. He was too weak. He fell to his knees in pain again. It shot up through his body, up into his chest, working to crush his lungs. He felt an icy hand closing around his heart and clawed at his chest, begging, screaming. This wasn't happening. He scrubbed at his skin with his hands, trying to hold it together as every single cell felt like it was being ripped apart. His hands shook... his body craving, begging for drugs he didn't have to give it. Everything hurt at once, everything over the past 40 years and then signing that paper.

He closed his eyes in realization. This was what dying felt like. Not dying like he'd come back. Not dying like passing out while his body healed itself. This was dying for real. And it _hurt._

He looked up to whatever heaven was listening in the cold, dark room as an icy chill shot through his heart. He screamed, whispered, tried to pray. Silence. Nothing.

He reached up to touch his face. There were tears on his cheeks. When had he started crying? He didn't remember having started crying. It didn't matter. He brushed them away.

Everything hurt. Everything and more than he knew could hurt. It was like threads in his skin, twisting and breaking.

His brother's voice again.

He tried to scream for him.

Silence.

He looked down at his arms as his hands shook, his body still begging for drugs. He shook his head as tiny red pricks of blood started to show through the shirt. When had his shirt turned grey? It was blue. It was supposed to be blue. The pricks grew with every needle mark in his arms, coating the grey in red. He shook his head, stepping until he felt his back hit the wall. More pain, from the wall through his body his arms bleeding more.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. He slid down the wall, pressing his hands over his ears to block out the voices he couldn't hear and screamed as loud as he could into absolute silence.

"…Gilbert?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, hearing sound for the first time in what could be eternity. He didn't know anymore.

"L-Liesel….?"

Her face was worried, any of the usual sisterly teasing missing from her expression, "Gilbert?" she touched his cheek.

"Why can't I die…?" more tears. He didn't want them, but he couldn't stop them, "Please, God, why can't I die…?"

He watched her heart break on her face, "You can't yet, Gilbert. You can't," she shook her head, "It's not over yet. It's not, he still needs you."

"No, he doesn't," he didn't have to ask who she meant.

"Yes, he does," she smiled a little, "he still needs his big brother."

Gilbert screamed, this time audibly, as pain tore through his body again. How was he not torn apart yet? It felt like he should be. He looked up at her again.

"Why… why does it hurt this-" he couldn't finish, biting his lip hard to keep from screaming again, "Why can't I _die_!?"

Bavaria shook her head, "Too many people still call themselves 'Prussian'. Too many people still care about you…"

"I don't have any land! I don't have a country. I'm supposed to die!" he gasped for breath, the pain stabbing down his back until he couldn't stand. He fell to his knees, leaning down onto his arms as they gripped his stomach.

"Please!" he begged whoever, whatever, was listening, "Please let me die!?" He looked down at his bleeding arms, "Is this punishment for this!? For the 6million dead!? For helping Russia? For letting that damn wall up!? Why are you doing this to me? just let me DIE!" He leaned over his arms, sobbing like he hadn't sobbed in years. He didn't want to cry. He wanted to die like a soldier. Not in whatever dark hell this was.

"Haven't I killed enough people for you?" he sobbed, "Haven't I been killed enough for you!? Please…" he fell into his side, bringing his hands to his face, curling up in desperation to stop the pain, "Please let me die… please… please God… please…"

Silence.

"Gilly…"

He felt her hand on his shoulder as she wiped his tears with her apron. He would have snapped some comment about her mothering him _again_ if it wasn't for the pain. The pain overwhelmed everything.

"D-don't call me 'Gilly'…" he whispered, barely.

"Gil he still needs you… he really does."

Prussia shook his head, "I can't… please… please, I just want to die…" He looked down at his arm suddenly as a sharp stab went all the way down to his fingers.

Prussia opened his eyes to see Switzerland's hands pulling a needle out of his left arm. He closed his eyes, wincing hard. The pain hadn't stopped.

He opened his eyes again, looking around the room. He ran his hand over the bed. It was soft, so soft, the sheets white and clean and pressed beautifully. He smiled a little. Germany would. He winced again, trying to bite back a soft groan.

"Gilbert?"

His brother's voice broke in through his mind.

"Hey…" he forced a smile, opening his eyes a little and looking towards his brother. He reached up weakly, wiping the tears off Germany's cheeks, "What are those for, kid?"

Germany smiled a little in return, "I thought you were dead…"

Prussia nodded, "I should be…" he winced again, shaking with pain. At least the withdrawal wasn't killing him. He turned to look at Switzerland, "How much did you give me?"

"Enough," Vash crossed his arms, "Just enough and not a bit more."

Prussia rolled his eyes, "Figures…"

"Gilbert…" Germany cut him off, "I brought someone for you," he smiled.

Prussia looked back at him, confused, biting his lip in pain and closing his eyes. It had to go away. Eventually, the pain had to go away. He hoped…

He jumped, feeling something land on the pillow by his head. He looked up, confused for a moment, "Gilbird!" he grinned as the fluffy yellow bird hopped onto his head, down his face, and onto his chest. He chuckled a little as the bird started lecturing him.

"I know I was gone for a long time, I'm sorry!"

"chirp. chirp chirp chirpchirpchirp. chirp. chirpchirp. Chiiiirp."

Prussia rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah I know."

"Chirp, chirp chirp…. chirp _chirp_ chirpchirp!"

Prussia winced hard, "Sorry…"

Gilbird hopped up to his neck and hugged it, worried.

Prussia tried to move his arm up to pet Gilbird, but stopped, crying out in pain again.

"Prussia…?" his brother's voice broke through the ache in his chest.

"I…. I'm ok…" he tried to steady his voice, tried to reassure his baby brother.

"No, you're not."

"I will be," Prussia shook his head, trying to sit up. He couldn't. He looked down at his body, expecting to see some kind of physical evidence of pain. It wasn't there. He looked fine. He felt awful. He reached for Germany's hand, not caring that it didn't look tough. There was no one there to see it anyway, except Vash. He cared a little about Vash knowing, but not enough to try and hide the pain. Why was there so much pain?

"Gilbert…?" Germany held his hand tighter, "Gilbert are you… are you all right?" he pushed his hair back out of habit, worried.

Prussia shook his head. Something was wrong, very very wrong. Pain wasn't new. Pain didn't bother him. This was different. This tore at everything he was. Even changing from Teutonic Knights to Prussia wasn't this bad. Not even close.

"Prussia, I don't-"

"Don't call me that," Gil shook his head.

"Why not…?" Germany asked, his voice breaking with confusion and fear.

"Prussia's dead." Gil looked away, back at the marks on his arm left from the drugs. So many drugs.

"Last time I checked… Prussia was pretty awesome."

Gil smiled.

* * *

A/N: Quite a bit in this chapter... Prussia is now in constant pain, which is less than fun... (speaking from personal experience...) A disturbing nightmare and seeing his sister who tried to encourage him. But now he has a problem. Who is he? Not Prussia, not GDR... who? We shall see of course... ;)

The pain nightmare was WAY too easy to write. As I mentioned in the previous chapter, I deal with some pretty severe pain... (24/7...) I'm having surgery on August 8th that will hopefully fix it forever, or at least get me on the road to recovery. I'm hoping so anyway!

This chapter was a bit sad and traumatic so extra blankets (not too many though... it's so hot out... ugh...) and lemonade and tea and all things nice! Let's see... snacks to all! I just went to IKEA for the first time and discovered they have some pretty delicious candy there. So take your pick! XD I personally loved the vanilla fudge!

Reviews are SUPER appreciated! And thank you SO MUCH to the people who are STILL READING AND REVIEWING! I love you guys so much! And it feels SO GOOD to be back! :D :D :D


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